A timeline of the foundings and falls of the Witcher Schools, as reckoned by me.
Everything that's canon, as far as I know, is in italics.
Enjoy!
910 - Mages tasked with making monster hunting knights at Rissberg. (In the 10th century)
915 - First witcher is made.
917 - Order of the Witcher established at Morgraig.
935 - School of the Bear established at Haern Caduch.
938 - School of the Viper established at Gorthur Gvaed.
940 - School of the Manticore established.
941 - School of the Cat established at Stygga.
942 - School of the Griffin established at Kaer Seren.
943 - School of the Wolf established at Kaer Morhen.
950 - Behelt Nar and Bialsuf Alsarea are finished being built.
952 - Cats of Stygga are all killed on order of nobles. School of the Cat Dyn Marv caravan is founded.
1146 - School of the Manticore loses majority of their number to a Fire Elemental & loses support of the Zerikaanian crown.
1160s - Monster numbers start to decline.
1164 - Kaer Seren is destroyed with an avalanche by mages who were denied entry to the Griffin library.
1180s - Monster numbers are noticeably small.
1188 - Bears fail to destroy a cabal of vampires, and peasants destroy Haern Caduch.
1194 - Wolf Pogrom.
1210 - Witcher Tournament culls the Wolves and Cats.
1230s - The last Wolf mage capable of performing the Trials died or vanished. The trainees of the late 1230s or early 1240s were the last of the young Wolf witchers to ever be trained.
1230-1257 - Gorthur Gvaed is destroyed by the Nilfgaardian army on The Usurper’s orders for not joining his empire.
1264 - Geralt brings Ciri to Kaer Morhen.
1268 - Nilfgaardian Soldiers overrun the Dyn Marv caravan. (Prior to 1272 the soldiers overran the Cat Caravan)
1272 - Battle of Kaer Morhen.
If you have any canon dates that contradict these, please let me know! Thanks for reading!
Hey Witcher Tumblr! I've seen a lot of posts and even lore videos more and more in recent years that say the Bear Witchers have almost a cult-like worship of strength and a survival of the fittest mentality and that's why they followed Arnaghad. Could someone point me to where this came from in the lore, if anywhere? Because it seems like something parts of the fan base made up as a collective headcannon.
I was under the impression the early Bears left the Order of Witchers with Arnaghad because he spoke about not wanting a code tying Witchers down, and had a general disrespect for authority or anyone imposing their will on them. The Bears are called "Firebrands" in the Gwent Cat School lore for a reason, after all, and they certainly have a trend of disrespecting authority. They seem more unruly anarchists than survival of the fittest assholes who want "the strongest to get the contract!" as I've seen one lore video claim.
Usually I don't share snippets that I just wrote, but as a certain someone is going around whining again, I decided to put out something that is actually fun. @tigerlyla-of-metinna and @laurikarauchscat, this is especially for you, as you were impacted by the latest wave of nastiness. @regis-favorite-raven knows the story idea already, because we talk story ideas every chance we get. This is a story beginning, who knows where it will lead.
Watchers and Hunters
Hello, hello, is there
Someone there who cares
For godforsaken souls
And godforsaken men?
Is there someone there who cares?
(MonoINC: Across the Waves)
Duny stumbled through the forest, hand pressed against his wounded flank, trying to duck behind bushes and boulders. Behind him, he could hear the baying of the hounds and the creaking of branches as the hunters followed him deeper and deeper into the forest. His three months of relative safety, hidden on an almost abandoned estate just south of the Amell Mountains had found their abrupt end through betrayal. Of the very few loyalists remaining another had decided that it was time to buy himself influence by betraying him to the Usurper. Duny had been warned, Ardal aep Dahy had again learned about the threat and warned him, but also letting him know that it was too dangerous to do anything more for him. Early in his flight, he had helped another man, saved him in fact, but had been forced to move on, once he had tended to his wounds. He was on his own, his feet carrying him further north, hopefully away from the hunters, hopefully, he would reach Cintran territory just soon enough for them to pull back or run into a Cintran border patrol. No such luck was forthcoming at the moment.
The baying came closer and he could hear the sound of hooves, the hunters were catching up to him. Desperately he leaped across a boulder, racing uphill, deeper into the mountain forest. The huge trees offered little cover, and the underbrush wasn’t yet fully green, so he could not hide. The air burned in his lungs, as he reached the hillcrest, and looked panicked for a way down, the hillside was steep, and the woods stretching ahead of him, like an endless sea. Carefully he stepped downwards, maybe he could find an overhang, to hide under.
The soft wet earth gave way under him and Duny lost his footing skidding downhill, his body thrown against rocks and bushes, unable to stop the tumbled until landing hard inside a mountain stream, the icy water soaking his clothes. The greater shock although was the head of a horse, standing beside the water to quite obviously drink, with a second horse only a few steps away. Beside the horses stood two warriors, one of them seemingly ready to go for his weapon, while the other had his blade already in hand, both of their eyes were trained on Duny.
His stomach lurched, they had found him. The man with the sword was of medium height, appearing still tall to Duny’s eyes, with short dark hair and a short cropped beard, eyes hard and distrustful. Duny would have been frightened of him already, had his companion not been even scarier. Seven foot tall, broad shoulders, packing heavy muscle, with long slightly unkempt brown hair, and hands like paws. He didn’t need a sword to be scary. In broad daylight, Duny had no hope they could not see what monstrosity had just fallen into the stream, even if they were not with the hunters, who seemed to be on the other side of the hill at the moment.
Duny scrambled backwards, falling over his own feet and landing in the water again, panic rising inside him. “Make it swift, please,” he whispered. He had been in a torture chamber once, he had no wish to repeat the experience.
Strangely the warriors did not attack him, nor did they show any fear or shock. The tall one looked up, his chin pointing towards the hill. “They after you?” he asked in Northern Common.
Duny had learned the language as a boy, a Prince had to understand the tongue of the neighbouring countries, but he had never had reason to use the language so far. “Tá, ceapaim… yes,” Duny struggled to use the correct tongue.
The tall warrior suddenly advanced, faster than Duny could see, grabbing his arm, and pulling him out of the water, pulling him to their side of the stream. “Get behind me,” he said, his voice a deep resonant baritone.
The next moment Duny saw why: hooves thundering came their way, the riders had moved around the hill and came towards them. Their hounds first baying, but then falling back and whining in fear. Surprised Duny watched as the huge hunting hounds slunk back behind the riders, who halted their horses in a few steps distance of the two warriors. He searched their ranks and his heart sank. They were led by Islwyn of Betws-y-Coed, and he hated Emhyr’s family with a vengeance.
Still Islwyn stopped his horse and raised his to signall the other riders to follow suit. “I have no quarrel with you strangers,” he said in Northern Common, “that one,” he gestured distainfully towards Duny, “is a fugitive from Nilfgaard, with a high price on his head. Let us have him, and the coin will be yours. How do 5000 Florens sound?”
Duny bit his lip, the sum was large enough to entice much wealthier people, and these two warriors were most likely mercenaries, who wouldn’t say no to easy pay. He peered around, assessing where to run, when the tall one spoke. “Fuck off,” he didn’t waste any more words on the riders.
“Look around you,” Islwyn replied, seemingly unfazed, “we are a dozen men, and you are two. Why seek a fight with us, over a boy you just found?”
The smaller one gave him a sardonic smile. “Forgive my comrade here, for not being a man of many words,” he said, in almost cultured tones. “What he meant to say is: Go fuck yourselves. There is a cave a mile east of here, that we can recommend for such activities.”
Duny felt his mouth fall agape, when he heard the rude recommondation spoken in perfectly calm tones. Islwyn’s eyes widened, he obviously was shocked by the rudeness too, but he reigned his temper in, with visible effort. “This is my last offer, give us the boy and live, resist and you will die.”
The tall warrior slowly drew a long dagger, flipping it around in his hand. “Why don’t you come here, and we insert this into your pert little ass, see if you can take it like a man?” he asked, and Duny shuddered, was it possible that the warrior was spoiling for a fight?
Islwyn certainly was, because he spurred his horse forward with a scream, into attack. The dagger left the warrior’s hand, hitting the horses’ neck, making it fall, colliding with a second rider, pulling him down, a third horse falling over the corpses. The tall warrior sprinted towards them, drawing his blade, Islwyn never came back to his feet, he died from an almost casual hit to the neck, a second rider followed. The tall warrior moved with a speed and strength that seemed impossible, he whirled between his attackers, weeding them out faster than Duny could count. One, another, a third…
It was over before Duny could truly process all that had happened. The last hunter was brought to his knees and beheaded with one clean strike. The tall warrior stood, his breath even, he wasn’t even panting and his eyes went to his comrade. “I know, you are still hibernating, Ivo, but why don’t you wake up and give me a hand here?” he asked.
The smaller man - Ivo - barked a laugh. “You were having fun, Axios, and you are always itchy after a winter. And what do we want with those idiots? They were crow bait now.”
Axios had sheathed his sword and pulled Islwyn’s corpse from under the horse, swiftly searching him. “Mighty fine, cowbait, there’ll be coin, clothes, and boots, at the very least. Look at the mite over there, does he look well geared to you?” he asked.
Duny felt the heat rise in his cheeks, about the offhand comment. “I am not a mite,” he said, pride refusing to swallow mockery. He might be a cursed abomination, but he would not be belittled.
“No, you are a cute little hedgehog,” Axios replied, “and you won’t get far in those rags you are wearing,”
Instinctively Duny touched his chest, the clothes he wore, were still the ones, he had worn three months ago, when he escaped. They were his last link to who he had been, to all that had been washed away in blood. He wanted to dispute the words, but instead he sneezed loudly, as his body began to register the icy wet clothes.
“C’me here,” Axios got up, waving Duny close, as he slid his own cloak, a thick monstrosity made of fur, from his shoulders and wrapped it around Duny. “There, that’ll keep you from freezing, until we have you at a fire. Now Ivo - move it, or I will leave you in some heap of leaves to sleep for another month.”
The two warriors swiftly searched the corpses and saddlebags, collecting gold, a few other items, weapons, clothes, a saddle-roll, working were swiftly, they soon had stashed the haul on one of the horses. “Come,” Axios gently nudged Duny to approach one of the horses, it was a huge hairy animal, with a shaggy mane, shaggy tail and shaggy fur. It huffed, when he came close.
“Horses don’t like me,” Duny said, knowing how this would go. He had tried to steal a horse, twice, and learned that tame animals disliked him with a passion.
“He knows better,” Axios replied. “Get on the horse, let’s be gone when they friends show up, and they are only a mile out.”
Duny mounted the huge animal, and Axios followed suit, mounting behind Duny. One arm wrapped around Duny, securing him, while the other hand took the rains, before he clucked his tongue, and the horse began to walk. Soon both horses were trotting steadily along a winding paths deeper into the mountains, miles and miles falling behind them, as they moved further and further away from where they had found Duny.
Duny had closed his eyes, he was still shivering, but the warm cloak helped a lot, as did the warm arm, securing him. He wanted to sleep, let his exhaustion claim him, but he couldn’t. Since his escaped he could count the moments when someone had honestly helped him on one hand. And that was counting the man who had given his life to allow Duny to escape at all. Those others who had helped him, all had known who he was and hoped for some kind of reward or leverage later. The two warriors, Ivo and Axios, made no sense in that regard.
“Only Nilfgaard after you, or the bitch in Cintra too?” Axios asked after a while.
“Nilfgaard,” Duny replied, his mind racing. “I don’t… I am not sure whether Cintra would count too. I do not know what happened recently, whether they ventured forth with the trade agreement, and what conditions they added. There might be a bounty in Cintra too, depending on that.”
Ivo made a face. “Tell me again, Axios, why we had to rescue this little chatterbox?” he asked with growl, before looking a Duny. “A simple: I don’t know, would suffice.”
“But that’s incorrect,” Duny found himself saying. “There are factors that weight both ways, after the Uprising. Involving Cintra into the hunt for survivors, would yield a valuable ally in the North, but also expose the names of Nilfgaards enemy’s to the Queen of Cintra, which in turn could be used against Nilfgaard. Not sharing that information on the other hand, would guard Nilfgaard’s secrets but would almost certainly open chances for people to escape north.”
“Oh… shut up, will you?” Ivo grumbled, and Axios gently squeezed Duny’s arm with an amused chuckle and Duny fell silent.
They rode for hours, until the sun began to set in the west and the two horses stopped near a small mountain pond. Looking around Duny wondered how far from people they were, it felt like they were deep in the woods. In spite of still feeling cold he began to make himself useful around camp, all too aware that he was dependent on the two warrior’s good graces. When he returned from refilling all waterskins at the stream feeding the pond, a fire was merrily burning, and Ivo was busy throwing something into the small kettle hanging above.
Axios waved Duny closer. “Let’s get you into some decent things, these mountains aren’t as warm as the plains down there,” he said, unrolling the things he had taken from the dead men, or extricated from their saddlebags.
Duny was hesitant to get rid off his damaged clothing, a part of him wanted to hang on to it, to somehow keep that last connection to his home in existence, but he knew it was useless. He needed warmer clothes, and sturdier ones as well. He nodded slowly, and took the things Axios handed him. The black tunic must have belonged to the elf among the hunters, because it fit Duny’s fine-bonded frame well enough, the breeches were a tad too long, but otherwise serviceable and the boots Axios handed him, surprisingly worked too.
A sudden wave of pain hit Duny, and he crashed to his knees, as he felt his body convulse and his human form assess itself, as the night came. He shuddered, trying to not make a noise. Huge hands clasped his shoulders, steadying him. “Breathe,” he heard Axios say. “In… out… the pain is just the wind, brushing past you…”
Duny panted, as the pain slowly abated and his human form fully emerged. He looked up, surprised to see Axios face free of disgust or revulsion. Why did he not react to Duny’s monstrous existence. In the semidark warm hazel eyes shimmered softly. The breath fled from Duny’s lungs when he realised what he had not seen before. “You are a vatt’ghren, a Witcher,” he said softly.
“And the little Nilfgaardian get it,” Ivo replied wryly, while stirring the cauldron. “Name’s Ivo of Belhaven, School of the Bear.”
“My name is Axios,” the taller one said, “also school of the bear. And what might your name be?”
For a moment Duny was tempted to say the truth, to just admit who he was and be done with all of it. He was dead anyway, crow-bait as Axios had called the hunters earlier on. But no, he wouldn’t give himself away. “Duny,” he replied. It was a name from a story he had loved, and that he had chosen, because it made him feel somehow a little better.
“Duny,” Axios replied, “why don’t we go over, eat a bite, and you can tell us about your curse, or spell gone wrong, if you like.”
Slowly Duny followed him to the fire, accepting a jar of soup from Ivo. The hot liquid felt good and only now he realised how hungry he had been. “I’d… I’d rather not talk about it,” he said softly, after a while. “You’ve seen what it does. I am human at night, and a monster by day. I am grateful you helped me, but… there’s nothing you can do.”
He was grateful neither Witcher pressed him for answers. Instead they left him to eat in peace, Ivo handing him another cup of soup after a little bit, and with the food in his belly, Duny began to feel tired. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep by the fire, warmly snuggled under Axios’ fur cloak.
Bear Witcher Adept
To become a Bear Witcher, all students must pass the Trial of the Mountain. This requires venturing to the peak of Mount Gorgon to retrieve a special runestone as proof of ascent—an especially brutal challenge, as many boys freeze to death long before they find the summit.
Bear Witcher
Life alone on the road can be tough—be sure to bring all the bare necessities.
Bear Witcher Quatermaster
Supply him with enough Mahakam mead, and he might just tell you a tale of how a bear took his shield and arm too!
Bear Witcher Mentor
If you’re unsure of the way, just keep a lookout for markers—the frozen corpses of would-be witchers.
Armor Up
Why try to sidestep the blow, when you can easily bear the brunt?
Haern Caduch
Carved into the icy rock of the Amell Mountains, hidden amid jagged crags and snowdrifts, the location of the long-abandoned School of the Bear remains a well-kept secret.
Just where is the School of the Bear? Some say hidden amidst the Slopes. Others argue it's found farther south, beyond the Amell Mountains. In fact, no one truly knows. And it's no surprise that Bear witchers have kept their whereabouts a secret, for the slaughter of the Wolf and Cat schools was known far and wide...
Alas, angry mob later found and banished witchers from Haern Caduch.
Founder
Arnaghad
“A witcher’s job is to kill monesters and collect coin. No more, no less.”
- Arnaghad
Arnaghad, some would say, was born stubborn. Insolent toward those in authority, he loathed anyone who tried to impose their will upon him, favouring autonomy above all else. This, in large, was the bedrock of why he went on to form his very own witcher school.
After he learned that another witcher had already taken his contract, Arnaghad's blood boiled. He found the witcher in the forest and cut him shoulder to waist, he only escaped after allerting the chort, which forced Arnaghad to fight it.
Training
To become a Bear Witcher, all students must pass the Trial of the Mountain. This requires venturing to the peak of Mount Gorgon to retrieve a special runestone as proof of ascent—an especially brutal challenge, as many boys freeze to death long before they find the summit.
Bear Witcher Mentor
If you’re unsure of the way, just keep a lookout for markers—the frozen corpses of would-be witchers.
Some Lore from Gwent
The School of the Bear... Little is known about it, yet one look at their custom armor reveals telling details of the witchers who wear it. A hardy quilted gambeson, heavy mail extending to the knees, plate armor spaulders to protect the shoulders...
A witcher equipped in such gear would not leap from raking claws, nor sidestep a beast's gnashing fangs. There is no need, for he can endure the blows... And ensure a short distance from which he can exact his revenge.
Unlike witchers from the Wolf School – who possess strong bonds of friendship and brotherhood – those from the Bear School prefer a solitary lifestyle, away from the company of other witchers. Should they encounter others on the path, however, rarely does it end without bloodshed.
Bear witchers often travel to the Skellige Isles – and this should come as no surprise. For the islands have no shortage of monsters and the witchers get along rather well with the similarly brash, bearded locals...
Armor
They wear heavier armor, favoring defense over agility.
Why try to sidestep the blow , when you can easily bear the brunt?
Three More Witchers
Junod of Belhaven
Rumour has it he was born of an unusual love between a lady giant and one VERY brave dwarf.
A witcher from the School of the Bear once ventured into Toussaint. Junod of Belhaven was his name – as big as a mountain, with a beard that would put a dwarf elder to shame. He accepted a contract to slay a monster that dwelled in the caverns beneath Marcescent Forest. Alas, he was never seen again...
Dammit, should never have taken this contract. Still not sure what sort of monster I'm up against. Worried I won't be able to prepare properly.
Stupid of me to bet the coin I set aside for armor. Elves just love squeezing folk of their last copper, and those skinflints at Tufo (vineyard) aren't any better. But no point feeling sorry for myself. And no point going back until I got a full set of gear.
Well, as long as you're sinking, might as well walk on the bottom.
I'll find a way, dammit.
- Junod in his journal
Ivo of Belhaven
It's not reason I'm devoid of, just emotion.
Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia once encountered a witcher from the School of the Bear. His name was Ivo. His dark complexion suggested he originally hailed from the warm climate of the Continent's southern regions. Whereas, the bluntness with which he responded to the queen's questions suggested he rarely conversed with heads of state...
It is said that all the witchers from the Bear School are huge, broad-shouldered and bearded fellows. Ivo of Belhaven, however, did not quite fit this pattern. While he did have a beard, his posture and agility made him more fit to be a Cat or a Viper. Ironically, this made his character perfectly fit to his school...
Bears are loners, known for their aversion to the company of other witchers, and Ivo excelled in this field. This originated during his training in Haern Caduch. He did not like other students, to put it mildly. One could even say that it was hate at first sight. This cost Ivo... Many wounds, much pain, and a lot of lost blood. Stronger partners did not show him mercy during training. Yet the fight was always matched and Iwo would always pay them back in their own coin. Blood for blood.
He remained indifferent to the news about the fate of the others, and did not show any interest, even when the angry mob banished witchers from Haern Caduch. This had nothing to do with anger or animosity, the mutations successfully neutralized such pointless feelings in him. He just did not care how others did.
What counted was that he would get by.
Of course, from time to time, Ivo would run into another witcher.
One such encounter was quite memorable. He met a Bear he knew from the school. His name was Junod, and just like Ivo, he assumed the moniker 'of Belhaven'. However, unlike Ivo, he did not come from Belhaven. When asked, about the choice, he replied with refreshing candor, that he just liked the sound of the name – and, since he did not expect the smaller Bear to live very long, he did not have any qualms to steal his moniker.
Ironically, a couple of years later Ivo heard about Junod's death. And he felt...
Nothing, actually.
Gerd
He was contracted to slay a dragon, a siren, and a striga. He was also being pursued by a vengeful knight, bounty hunters, and bandits. Despite all this, he still found time for a round of Gwent.
Let it hereby be known that the witcher known as Gerd has committed foul crimes against the Ducal Tiara, namely: insulting Her Grace's majesty, resisting Her Grace's guards, collaborating with the usurper and other such deeds bringing harm to Ducal Tiara.
So I have this headcanon that the bear witchers kind of watch over/protect the Tuirseach clan since Gerd gave his life to try to save his own beloved Jarl. Can you imagine old grouchy Arnaghad being a Grandpa figure to a young King Bran and little Eist? Junod & Ivo being the fun uncles who sometimes give poor Mousesack a break from Royal babysitting duty? The Tuirseach’s sigil is a Bear after all. I love the idea that Arnaghad and his boys are close to Skellige’s crown ❤️
YESS I LOVE THAT!! Also in Skellige, they seem to respect witchers a lot more than the Continent in general, so I think it's a good headcanon!!
In the Witcher 3, there was a ceremony/feast that the An Craites threw, and I just imagine the Royal family inviting the Bear Witchers to feasts and stuff, and they can really party and have fun!! (They would really kill in those scuffles and fighting matches lol) They would be great teachers to a little Eist and young King Bran awww, just the image of kids climbing all over those giant strong witchers is so cute!
Inspired by https://thephoenixrule.tumblr.com/post/621817193224667137/what-is-jaskier-had-tattoos-tho-magic-tattoos
My take on Soulmate Tattoos
When he’s born he’s covered in tattoos. People called him a heartbreaker all his life.
The tattoos go from a pack of Wolves, to a few Cats, at least two Griffins, four Vipers, a small bundle of Bears.
The animals usually stick in their packs.
The Wolves curl around each other and howl together much to young Jaskier’s amusement
The Cats fight along his arm. They knead into his biceps and purr when the fall asleep on him
The Vipers curl around his ear or neck and hiss whenever he is being approached from behind.
The Griffins like to fall from the top of his back to the bottom of his calves before flying back up and resting around his shoulders.
The Bears like to hibernate in his armpit, elbow or neck. When they are awake they walk across his stomach and play with each other
But they sometimes bundle up during Winter, all of them curling around his chest and sleeping near each other
The Witchers all share the same tattoo, and the boys who don’t have it never survive (blue songbird on their chest)
He decides to travel. He knows he’ll never meet his soulmates in Lettenhove. His parents don’t really care and let him go without a fuss because he was always a disgrace to the family.
He meets Geralt in Posada and realizes he is one of his Wolves. But they never do anything about it because Jaskier thought Geralt didn’t have a soulmark
They travel for 20 years before Geralt breaks. The mountain happens and Jaskier listens to the White Wolf howl in his ear as the pack try to keep him quiet. That Winter the Wolf wasn’t with his pack but on his foot as he howled at Jaskier
He meets Coën next, and they start a relationship. The Griffin sees his tattoos and stops, Jaskier gets ready to run, like so many times when people see his collection, before Coën whispers an invite to KM.
He goes. Turns out a lot of Witchers shelter there during the Winter, not just the Wolfs.
He realizes that the Cats are as active as his marks, the Vipers like their solitude but also companionship.
The Wolves All bond with pack piles usually Lambert is at the bottom
The Bears only sometimes visit but they did that year because their songbird tattoo was trying to tell them something.
Each Witcher traces his tattoo in Jaskier’s body and he traces their songbirds
Bonus:
When Jaskier is a bit older (elf blood!!) he gets all his tattoos to sit on his chest and he counts them. He goes over their meetings from their namesakes. Maybe one or two is grey and slower from the loss of a Witcher but he loves them and cherishes their memories
He sketched each tattoo and drew a picture of the Witcher it represents, then filled books of songs dedicated to his lovers.
What is Jaskier had tattoos tho? Magic tattoos, one for each witcher school
Imagine Letho following a beautifully detailed snake tattoo, a
