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Silver & Scars <Chapter 1>

I couldn’t contain my excitement, so I decided to put this up a day early. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

Trigger Warnings: Violence against kikimores, and semi-descriptive injuries

Chapter 1: The Kikimore Contract

He'd been in the swamps since dawn. He'd tossed a coin to the ferryman who'd brought him across the water to the swamp that laid on the outskirts of Vizima. The royal guard had put a contract on a Kikimore that was killing townsfolk. The monster was inhabiting a cave that held mushrooms Vizima's citizens liked to collect.

Eskel had found himself trekking through bogs to find the hidden cave the kikimore occupied. He knelt by a fire, busying himself with bombs and potions. There was very little he could do against a queen Kikimore, which he expected was tucked away safely in her cave. Aard would work against the smaller kikimore workers, but the warriors would also be a pain to deal with.

He set to work brewing insectoid oil. He would need a lot of it to take care of the nest. He brewed several batches of swallow, white honey and White Raffard's Decoction. If potions would do little against the Kikimore queen, healing potions may at least keep him alive long enough to drag himself back to the sorceress's doorstep. She could at least patch him up enough to keep him alive.

He shook the thought away. He couldn't afford any distractions right now.

The silver blade slid from its sheath with a soft shwink. He popped the cork of the insectoid oil and generously coated the blade. He didn't know when there would be a break long enough for him to recoat the blade, so he hoped that this would do until then.

He made his way through the swamps, his senses on high alert. There were several corpses he passed that had been picked clean by the kikimores.

His ears picked up the tud da tud da tud of spindly legs on the spongy earth. He was quick to cast quen throwing out a golden orb. The sharp legs of the kikimore warrior shattered the shield. Eskel was quick to roll to the side of the beast. Slashing out his silver blade he heard a monstrous screech, which he knew would cause the workers to join the fight.

Vesemir's voice echoed in his head. Always keep moving. A moving target is harder to hit. He threw out Aard knocking a smaller kikimore to the ground. He was quick to deal the killing blow, and leapt out of the way just in time for the larger kikimore to take another swipe at him.

He could recall Lambert saying heavy attacks were best used on Kikimores, and he was in an open mindset considering the turmoil that was going on around him that he decided to see if there was any truth to the younger Witcher's statement.

The only problem he realized a second too late, was that heavy attacks tend to slow one down. He felt his flesh tear open as a razor sharp leg swiped at him.

His blow landed in the kikimore's throat, and it stilled. He pulled the silver blade from its mouth, quickly casting Aard as he spun. Three more kikimore workers were knocked on their backs, and he was quick to slay them.

He downed some swallow, and with shaking hands he poured more insectoid oil over his blade. He knew the cut would start stinging and aching once the adrenaline wore off. He only hoped that the potion could numb the pain and start the process of healing.

He collected the few monster parts he needed before continuing towards the cave. He knew there would be at least one more warrior patrolling the swamp, and who knew what lied in the cave.

He cast quen once more, in the event he was taken by surprise. He couldn't have cast it soon enough when he felt the pressure on the back of his calf, and his shield shattered once more. He took a few quick swings at the kikimore dispersing it. He threw Aard a couple more times as a few other smaller kikimores attacked.

He was dousing the blade in more insecticide oil when two kikimore warriors crested the hill. He let out an audible "fuck," as they approached.

He rocked to the balls of his feet. Agility was easier when he wasn't caught flat footed. He threw out Quen for good measure, and readied himself for the first strike.

Both kikimore's threw their legs up in an attempt to impale him. He tucked into a quick roll slashing upwards as he came to his feet. He sidestepped to miss the kikimore's back legs and sent a heavy blow crippling it in the back. He was quick to dodge the other kikimore, but one of the many razor sharp shell teeth left a shallow slice across his thigh.

With a few more strokes of his sword both beasts were dead. He inspected the wound as he caught his breath. The blood loss seemed to be minor, and the wound he acquired earlier seemed to be seeping blood. His jacket was ruined with soaked blood. By the looks of it, the cut had bled like a bitch.

He downed white honey to clear out the toxins surging through him. He then threw back some more swallow. He inspected the mouth of the cave as he pulled out the one bottle of brown oil he carried. He hadn't bothered brewing another bottle, because he wouldn't have the time to reapply it once he was in the middle of the fight. He set to work coating his blade once more. He moved his bombs to his chest. It was unlikely they would do much damage, but it may slow the queen down enough for him to get a strike or two in.

He didn't have much of a plan for fighting the beast. All he could do is throw quen signs, try to get an occasional hit in, and run like hell. One swipe from the queen could be lethal even for a mutant like him.

He took a deep breath as he popped the cork of a cat potion. The potion smelt vile, and it would burn going down. He didn't think on it anymore as he downed the contents. He'd learnt the longer he thought of a potion, the harder it always went down.

He felt his vision alter. His eyes fluttered irritated at the sudden change of light. He let his eyes adjust a moment, before stepping into the mouth of the cave.

Eskel's eyes darted around the tunnel. He could make out silhouettes of stalagmites hanging from the walls. Cat was a useful potion, but Eskel hated when the color was drained from the world and the small details taken away. He had to rely heavily on his hearing, and hope the potion lasted through the fight.

The tunnel sloped down into a wide cavern. Eskel could see a massive spindly silhouette tucked in the corner. He couldn't deny it looked more terrifying in the dark then in broad daylight. It was moments like this that he was thankful for the mutations. The healthy dose of fear that should be pumping through his veins was silenced. Instead he felt a primal need to kill.

He cast quen as he slowly approached the kikimore. He decided on a heavy blow while he had the chance. If he could sneak up on the monster and weaken it, perhaps the rest of the fight would turn in his favor.

He drove the silver blade down as deep as he could go. He felt his shield shatter as he was thrown back. He found himself slow to get up when he landed. Half heartedly he chucked a bomb in the direction he assumed the kikimore was in. He heard a screech as he finally got to his feet. He signed quen and took off running. He could hear the tud da tud da tud behind him, as her spindly legs brought her closer to him. He dove to the side bringing his sword up with a swipe landing another blow on it's leg. He felt his shield shatter, and acid spewed on his thigh. "Shit." He cursed stabbing the small kikimore, before slaying its companion. He signed quen again before hucking another bomb at the queen. He hadn't time to drink any white honey as he dove out of the way from a blow from the queen.

The queen was weakening, and his thigh was burning. A heavy blow or two would finish her off. He cut quick to the side, and brought the silver sweeping across her legs. Black blood poured from the missing limbs, and she released a vile spit of acid. Quen absorbed most of the toxin, in the process of it shattering some spewed across his chest. Eskel was quick to deal the finishing blow. He sent silver straight through her armored skull. The kikimore gave a violent shudder and finally laid still.

Acidic fumes from his wounds clouded his vision, leaving him gulping for air as the bile rose up his throat. He found himself vomiting into the sand. Tears were leaking out of his burning eyes as he popped the cork on the square vile. Eskel downed the contents of the white honey feeling some of the pain ease. His tearducts opened as they flushed the acidic fumes from his eyes. He wiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks. His chest and thigh felt like hamburger from the acid eating away at his skin.

Dragging himself to his feet he pulled out a torch to see. The cat potion leaving his system as the white honey did its work. He quickly set to work destroying the eggs.. He limped out of the cave. Twilight was fast approaching, and he was in no state to be caught in the swamps at night.

*

**

She awoke to a pounding on her door. Her dog lept up with a yelp at the intruder at the door. It had been days since she'd last seen the dark haired Witcher. She assumed he'd gone on to the next town in search of contracts and coin. Which is why she was startled to find him leaning against her threshold, looking like he was on death's door.

"Witcher!" She gasped instinctively reaching out to the man to steady him. What she wasn't expecting was for the towering man to practically land in her arms. "Oof," she grunted, digging her heels in to support him. "Let's get you up the stairs." She said guiding him up the narrow stairway. His hand tried to find some support against the wall as she hefted him up the stairs. The man was barely conscious.

By the smell of him, he'd been in the swamps all day. The Witcher was fighting fatigue, blood loss and pain. He hadn't given much thought past making it to her doorstep. His body finally gave out as he passed out halfway on the bed. She was careful to pull his boots off as she lifted each leg onto the bed.

His pant leg and flesh had been melted away by the acid. She brought her small hands above the wound concentrating on the incantation she recited. Slowly the acid seemed to disappear, and the skin closed up leaving a few new scars in its wake.

She carefully cut away at his pants. Attempting to persevere his modesty best she could. She couldn't risk any traces of acid transferring from his pants to skin. Besides she mused holding up the shredded pants, there was never a hope of mending them anyways. She tossed them on the fire, and the acidic residue engulfed the pants into flames.

She found another fresh scar, a wound she assumed he acquired earlier in the day. When she went on to inspect his wounds she found some more bubbling skin from the acid that was spewed onto his skin. Stripping him of his jacket and shirt she went to work healing the wound. She threw the jacket in a bin of water, and tossed the shirt in the fire as well. Even the witcher couldn't argue that burning the garments was the safest way to dispose of the acid. She quickly went to work healing the wound and tending to other minor cuts.

The bloodied jacket was calling to her from the wash bin when she finally stepped away from him. She grabbed her laundry soap and set to scrubbing the jacket.

She was surprised to find the jacket had been lined with a soft buckskin colored leather. She could only guess at when the last time the jacket had been washed.

In a life that seemed so long ago she had brothers. Brothers who wouldn't have thought to do their laundry or take the occasional bath had her mother not ordered them to do so. Her smile faltered, that had been long ago. Before her father sold her for a pouch of orens to the Aretuza Academy. They had passed many years ago, but heere she was: still young, beautiful, and alone.

She snapped back to reality as she hung the jacket to dry. The Witcher would be out for the rest of the night, so she took her purse and headed to the local armorer. Feeling a bit of guilt at burning the Witcher's clothes, even if it was unavoidable she would replace them.

A gruff voice could be heard behind the wooden door as she knocked. No doubt she'd roused the poor man from his sleep. "What do you want?" The dwarf inquired gruffly.

"I need pants, and a shirt." She made sure to jingle her purse for good measure. The dwarf seemed to perk up at the sound of coin. He nodded, and in a gruff voice said "come in."

"What kind of pants are you wanting?"

"Something leather, and black. A good fit too." She added.

"It'll take me a moment to fashion something in your size lassie." He began before she shook her head.

"It's for a man. A large man, around six foot." She said thoughtfully. "And I want a white shirt. Something soft, but sturdy."

The dwarf raised his eyebrow, "dressing your lover?" A small chuckle escaped his throat. "Woman have to have their hand in everything."

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, "he isn't a lover."

"Ah, but you're blushing like a maiden." The dwarf said with a shake of his head. "Fret not, your secret is safe with me." He pulled out a shirt and pants. "Have him come back if they don't fit right." She thanked the dwarf before handing over the sum, with a little extra.

•

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•

Exhaustion finally hit as she sat by Eskel's side. She reached out to grab his hand. His large palm felt warm in her hands. Her eyes felt heavy as she laid her head on the edge of the bed. (E/c) eyes slowly fluttering shut.

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