Nymph!Jaskier? A powerful grassland one. If there are human-tall grasses and wild flowers around, he can fuck with your mind. Displace you and make you walk around in circles and never get out of that loop. He finds Ciri first when an army of Nilfgaards is after her. He herds then to a grassy field, tells her to run, find Geralt and never look back. Stays, traps and starves the soldiers, dropping them one by one. When Geralt arrives, he finds a hill of corpses smelling of flowers and no Jaskier.
There are hundreds of them.
Geralt and Eskel stand over the hill and they can both see the sheer number of corpses strewn around, but no blood. It’s a massacre but there are no signs of the enemy, no blood, no metal, no anything. Just flowers and corpses.
The bodies are decomposing already and wherever there's a body, buttercups grow, deadly and beautiful. Geralt swallows.
“What happened here?” Eskel breathes, eyes wide.
“They were chasing Ciri. She said Jaskier found her and told her to run through the grass and she found her way out but no one else followed,” Geralt says quietly.
He’s not sure what to think. The only logical conclusion is that somehow, Jaskier killed an army of men just to protect Ciri. He can smell the bard, faintly, but there's no smell of his blood, just anger. He doesn’t move.
The wind picks up and it almost sounds like the tall grass is singing a melody, the scent of flowers overtaking the scent of rotting flesh. The bones start sticking out from some places, flowers growing between the ribs and in the eye sockets.
“What is he?” his brother asks.
Geralt closes his eyes and remembers the flower crown on Jaskier’s head and his dead smile when they found bandits trying to attack and girl. He remembers passing colorful stains of flowers on their way out.