#gweld

[inexplicifics]

A Witcher fic for @domaystic prompt 10, get stuck with someone, also on AO3:

Serrit finishes her furious examination of the cell and finally turns to look at the other inhabitant, who has been sitting quietly against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed. He’s a tall, well-built redhead in filthy dark clothes.

“Find anything?” he asks softly, and lifts his head, opening his eyes to reveal witcher yellow, clear and startling.

Serrit hisses and gropes for a knife that isn’t there. The fucking asshole noble whose regrettably well-kept dungeon this is also has very competent guards, and they found all her holdout weapons, the whoresons.

The other witcher doesn’t move from his spot on the floor, just spreads his hands out on his knees, demonstrating that he’s neither armed nor trying to make a Sign, and raises an eyebrow at her. Serrit snarls and makes herself relax. “Nothing,” she bites out.

“Damn,” the other witcher sighs. “I was hoping you’d spot something I hadn’t.”

Serrit leans against the wall as far away from him as she can get. “How long have you been in here?”

“Fourteen days,” the other witcher says.

“Fuck,” Serrit mutters. The other witcher laughs softly.

“Must admit I’ve already run through every curse word I know. Don’t suppose you speak Zerrikanian or Ofieri? I’ve heard they’ve got some good ones.”

Serrit eyes him dubiously. “You are far too fucking calm about this.”

The other witcher chuckles again. “Eh, my brothers always say I’m too good-natured. Though I must admit, if I can figure out how to get out of this cell, I’m going to be very tempted to explain to that asshole count exactly why caging witchers is a truly terrible idea.”

“Explain?” Serrit asks incredulously.

The other witcher smiles, showing very sharp canines. “Pointedly.”

Serrit snorts, amused despite herself. “What School?” If he’s a Cat - unlikely, given his size, but possible - this might end up being entertaining.

“Wolf,” he says mildly. Serrit hisses again. Fucking Wolves. Not as sanctimonious as Griffins, and less likely to start a fight than Bears, but still. Annoying bastards. “And you?” he adds.

“Viper,” she says, bracing for the hostility she knows will follow.

It doesn’t. He just nods. “I’m Gweld.”

She’s so startled she responds. “Serrit.”

“I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but honestly the circumstances leave something to be desired.” Gweld grins wryly. “I think I would have preferred a tavern - have you been to that one in Ellander, just south of the temple? The Crowned Fish?”

Serrit stares at him, bewildered. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“There’s very little to do here except count the stones in the wall, unless you’ve managed to smuggle in a Gwent deck somehow, and the guards are regrettably terrible conversationalists.” Gweld shrugs. “I’m bored, Serrit of the Vipers.”

Serrit blinks. That’s…actually rather fair. But she’s terrible at talking to people. After a moment’s thought she crouches down and scratches a grid into the packed dirt of the floor between them. Gweld sits forward, eyes lighting up, and starts grabbing pieces of straw and coiling them up to make game pieces.

Four games of checkers later - Gweld cheats, the grinning bastard, and Serrit must admit she likes him better for it - there’s the sound of guards approaching down the corridor. Gweld hums. “It’s not suppertime,” he says softly. “I wonder if they’re going to let us out?” He grins. “Truce til we’re both out of this damned county, Viper?” He offers a hand across the makeshift gameboard.

“Truce,” Serrit agrees, taking his hand. It’s broad and warm and roughly callused, and his grip is firm but not too strong; he’s not showing off or trying to establish dominance the way some idiots do. “And I’ll give you dibs on the count - long as I get the last piece.”

Gweld chuckles, showing those too-sharp canines again. “Deal,” he murmurs, and rises to his feet, rolling his shoulders.

Serrit stands, too, and meets his grin with one of her own. These assholes are about to learn how bad an idea it is to cage a witcher - much less two.

And, hours later, as she and Gweld slip into the woods with their gear on their backs and the count extremely dead behind them, she decides that while most Wolves are more trouble than they’re worth, this one - well. This one’s not so bad at all.

[tallfroggie]

Winters at Kaer Morhen are freezing, and while Witchers run hot, the drafts and chills can reach even them. The solution? Puppy piles by the fire :)

(Feat. the baby versions of Geralt, Eskel, and Gweld - the latter is from comic lore and would have grown up with Geralt and Eskel)

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Okay, completely unironically though, do you have any thoughts about which Witcher is most likely to ACCIDENTALLY almost set half of Kaer Morhen on fire?

Eskel.

Ah-ha! You thought I'd say Lambert, didn't you, Anon? But Lambert would have set things on fire deliberately. I feel like teenaged Eskel was very much an accidental arsonists. And here's why.

We all know that Eskel is gifted with magic. Or rather, we have extrapolated from his tingly magic hands and a lil' bit of game lore that he is the best at Signs. His control, his power. All unmatched. Now, imagine a young, idiotic teenager learning that he can conjure actual fire with his hands.

The instructors always start them with quen, helitrope... maybe yrden. You know, the Signs that protect and bind. They can't hurt themselves with those. But Eskel's impatient and competitive with Geralt. He watches one of the instructors cast igni, memorises the pattern, and then practices. And practices. And practices.

Eventually, he gets it. A little shimmering flame in the palm of his hand. He must show Geralt. Eskel strides into their shared dormitory, chest puffed, chin up. "Lemme show you what I can do, peasants."

Geralt, Gweld, Frank, Gardis. They all gather around. Eskel casts igni.

Awe. Shock. Jealousy. Begrudging respect. Some of the boys try it, but they haven't got the right finger shape or the right focus. They make Eskel do it over and over again. The flame gets slightly bigger each time as he gets cockier.

Unfortunately, Frank skipped out on dusting duty, and when Gweld flops down on his bed and snatches a dusty copy of the bestiary to sulk with, the resulting cloud of dry skin, adolescent dandruff and miscellaneous human debris tickles Eskel's nose and he sneezes.

Half way through casting igni.

It's like feckin' dragon fire. A huge cone of flame. The boys hit the deck, hands over their heads, but it's too late. The curtains are on fire. Geralt shrieks, grabs a decanter of something, but before Gweld can bellow not to throw his fuckin' alchemy project on an open flame, Geralt's turns their small, moderately chaotic fire into an actual blaze. The beds are toast. The tapestries poof into ash.

There's shrieking. Screaming. Frank has no eyebrows. Gweld throws more furniture at it in hopes of keeping the fire in one place rather than have it spread around the room. (What the fuck, Gweld?)

The noise draws the attention of the instructors who appear and manage to contain the fire with a liberal application of water and quen. Eskel and Geralt, sooty, hair singed, stand in front of Grandmaster Barmin, who pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

"Why is it always you two?"

Geralt opens his mouth for a smartass reply. Eskel stamps on his foot and the sass turns to a yelp. They get potty duty for a week, so their dormitory ends up smelling of burned wood and the shit of a hundred men. The mages give Eskel the side eye, but Rennes, Vesemir and Barmin stay their hand. He went through enough with Geralt. And you don't fuck around with Chaos under their damned roof. The dragon of Kaer Morhen gets to continue training without interference. Oh, how Eskel hates that fuckin' nickname.

[elizabethospeaks]

Commission for @ainawgsd! Their vision for Witcher Gweld~ Thank you so much for supporting me and my work!

[whoisthatwitcher]

Gweld

Race: Human, Witcher Loyalty: Wolf School

Gweld is from Zdrada. I have a fan translation which is quite good- but the translator makes a point to say they are not bilingual, and says their English poor. This is not a note to shame them- just to keep in mind while reading.) Please note that this will be full of spoilers- but I’ll be skipping most of the plot that doesn’t revolve around Gweld directly. 

The comic begins showing Gweld and Geralt training. They show trainees being injured and dying, from training, monsters, and then a fairly horrifying scene about how they won’t all survive the herbs. Gweld wakes up from a nightmare where he dreams of Geralt’s death from the herbs- it’s pretty horrific. A transition from a skull back into Geralt’s face. Geralt soothes him, and we find out about the upcoming Cat Witchers! Note: Geralt gets the top bunk. 

We find out that Vesemir agreed to a swap of trainees between the Cat and Wolf school- to learn each other’s training. Gweld is the one chosen. Vesemir sends Geralt, Gweld, Gardis and Aubry to the Cats, no fighting is allowed. One beer is. On the way they bicker and tease each other. We find out that what we’ve seen is the Wolves’ Summer Camp, not Kaer Morhen, but before Gweld has to leave... 

Gweld is ready for a fight at the Cat Witcher’s provocations, and they agree to a match only to upset the locals who think it’s an attack, as the Wolves showed up with 4 and only 3 Cats showed up. Vesemir and Guxart show up, and while they’re no love lost between them, it’s settled and they all go their own way. Gweld will return to the wolves after the tournament. 

There’s a little bit of politics in the background that differ from other canons here:  We find out that Radowit II the Brave is seeking info on how to destroy the witchers, who he believes are raising forces to war against him- although they rely on his money. Vesemir denies this, however, and says that the forest protects the witchers. This is confirmed by a mage, later. Radowit’s advisors blatantly lie and encourage them to starve the witchers into submission.  This is the canon that gives us Treyse as the headmaster of the Cats, and Rennes for the wolves. 

We then see the Cat witchers murdering and stealing, which find out was a setup. Guxart is suspicious, but the medallions found on the bodies were Wolf medallions.  And while Geralt’s getting laid again, Gweld has gotten a haircut and seems to be excelling at Cat Training. Guxart is impressed, though Gweld’s sparring partners don’t seem pleased. 

And after some drama, we find out that the wolves medallions are each different. Geralt has an Iron Wolf Medallion, while Gweld has Black Onyx. Geralt discovers his was lost and Rennes is there to show that both he and Gweld have been set up for the murder we saw previously. (The one Geralt was wearing was taken when he was getting laid. We find out later that Gweld allowed the Cats to take Geralt’s, as they told him they were returning it to Geralt.) 

Rennes here is willing to give both boys to Radowit, but Vesemir argues against it- apparently they’re the two best. But before anything further can happen Guxart and Vesemir are taken captive before the tournament, a joint “exam” of the schools. We quickly find out is not fairly organized. 

Gweld and Geralt talk while sparring, and we find out that he wasn’t just off enjoying learning, but was suspicious and checking on them. However, they’re caught, and a spell is cast over Gweld who immediately attempts to kill Geralt, but fails, falling on Geralt’s blade. The trauma from his friend’s death is what turns Geralt’s hair white- and he rages, wanting to avenge his friends death. He only partially succeeds, killing a man to take his horse, so he can return to Kaer Morhen to report what happened.  While many fan creations can be dismissed as not-canon, the translator includes some notes saying that Sapkowski formally acknowledged this comic as canon backstory in Season of Storms. I haven’t found anywhere where he admits that this betrayal was what he was referring to when Geralt tells Brehen he knows perfectly well why Cats are forbidden from Kaer Morhen. If I find confirmation, I’ll edit it in. 

[kushielsmercy]

Could I get quote #14 and contract gone wrong with Gweld please?

Sorry that this took about 5,000 years! I have never written Gweld before, so this was a fun challenge.

Gweld watches the rat try to climb up the near-sheer elven well wall. “Well, it’s nice to see that someone hasn’t lost their optimism.”

The rat misses a foothold about three feet above the ground, flopping to the ground and turning around to glare at him accusingly. “I told you it was a lost cause,” Gweld says, taking solace in that, while he might have royally fucked up, he’s still smarter than a rat.

He’s also talking to a rat, which implies less positive things about his mental state. But hey, everybody needs a friend.

Right. So, to recap. He’s stuck at the bottom of a well, his leg is not supposed to be at that angle, there’s a ekimmara waiting to finish him off if he somehow does manage to get out of here and his best bud Mr. Rat will eat him down to bone if he doesn’t.

Fucking fabulous.

Well, one step at a time. He shucks his sword belt off his back, biting down hard on the blood-soaked leather. He gets two hands around his shin and yanks, biting the belt near in two as the bone pops back into place. He swears loudly, ramming his head back into the stone at the pain.

That’s sorted, he gingerly checks the wound, relieved when he finds that it’ll heal clean. It should only take a few days too - he can survive that long. Not that it’ll matter much, if he can’t get out of here.

Unbidden, an image of Eskel soaring 50 feet in the air springs into his mind. Granted, he would have broken his idiot skull if Geralt hadn’t been there to catch him, but -

Geralt’s isn’t here, but the well is only maybe 25 feet tall. Time to see how good his Aard is.

He settles into wait.

[etcorsolus]

I haven’t forgotten about Wandering Soul, I promise. I am, however, taking a break from it at the moment. I’ve been so blocked on the story for weeks now so I decided to not even open the document for at least two weeks. I’m hoping giving my mind a break from agonizing over it will help me refocus and move the story to where I need it to be.

That being said, here’s a snippet from the start of the next chapter:

Lambert agreed to keep his mouth shut, despite a raging desire to berate his stupid brother for not just coming back to them, so he bites his tongue and crosses his arms. 

“You weren’t planning on coming home at all then?” Eskel questions. His voice is quiet and controlled but Lambert can see the tension in Eskel’s shoulders, trying to hide the hurt.

“I didn’t think I’d be welcome,” Geralt whispers.

“Didn’t think- You fucking idiot-” Lambert growls, taking a step towards Geralt where he still kneels in front of the cabin.

Gweld locks a big arm around his shoulders immediately and turns to shove him off into the trees. Lambert lets him because he really doesn’t want to fight Geralt right now; it’d hardly be fair, and he knows it won’t do any good just yet anyways. Eskel is the only person Lambert’s ever met that can really change Geralt’s mind.

[continentcakeshop]

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

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Gwent: The Witcher Card Game, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gerd & Gweld & Gwen (The Witcher) Characters: Witcher Gerd (The Witcher), Gweld (The Witcher), Gwen (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Crack, Alliteration, G, (yes the letter), Gwent (The Witcher) Summary:

Gerd, Gweld, and Gwen are playing Gwent.