The Witcher: Story of the Black Cat

Introduction

The story that you all have come to know and respect is all true. That of Geralt of Rivia, his friendships, encounters, love, and of course, destiny...

But what if there is a piece of his tale that had been forgotten? That critical piece is the story of one whose life intertwined with his. The story of another...

Witcher.

                                                                                      Prologue

It's dark. A complete darkness she's used to. She looks around to try to figure out where she is now. She sees a small deer minding its own, but there's a thirst she has for its blood. It's flesh. She can hear something moving through the swamp but doesn't see anything. She looks down and her legs are that of a large insect. Before she knows it, she's darting towards the deer. She gets a piece. A large chunk off the back leg. Now she's fighting someone. Someone she can't see, but they have a silver sword. A witcher? She can't see who they are. Her perspective's switched and she now stands contending with the kikimora. She can't control her movements, only watch as the battle continues. She's held underwater, grasping for the silver blade that was knocked from her...their hand. She tries to focus as it continues to reach for the sword. Grunts coming from one, screeching from another. The hand finally grabs the weapon and thrusts it upward into the kikimora's throat. Its tar colored blood spewing on to everything that surrounds it.

ONE

The bustle of the crowd in the tavern is like every other small town she's been in. The men are drunk, the women are working...some of the women are drunk and working. Being treated like meat. They don't care. So, she doesn't either. At least she tries not to. She watches from her corner while the youngest of the barmaids gets her backside slapped by a patron as she makes her rounds. She's the only one that doesn't seem to want the attention but lets it be. It's dark, dank, but obviously the go-to place for the population of Acorn Bay.

"The hairy man over there would like an ale or two, the other guy with the double chin wants the special breeeeEEw." The young bar maid's singing makes her cringe. Far from the smooth sounds of bards she's heard during her journeys. The barmaid looks in her direction and her body tenses. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't know anyone was here! I'll be back around to you in a second, okay?" She nods but doesn't say a word. The barmaid starts her singing again as she walks away strategically handling the pints she's cleared from the nearby table, "Come back to the woman with the head full of squid-inked cuuuurlssss..." The woman wraps a coil of her hair around her finger and pulls it forward to look at its deep black color. She shrugs and begins to roll a coin through her scarred fingers as she waits patiently to be served. She continues to take in her surroundings, she can't help herself. It's how she's been trained. No threats to her here though. No one even notices that she's in their space. Good enough for her.

The barmaid comes and sits at her table.

"Sorry about that. It's quite mad in here tonight." She nods. "So, what're ya havin' then?"

"What are you serving for food?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. Pheasant, apples, sausages. Pretty sure we have a good catch in the back. The cook can whip that up nice with a side of vegetables."

"I'll have that. And an ale."

"Perfect! Be right back." She slides the chair out from the table making a loud noise that echoes through the place. "She'd like to have the catch. And I can grab the rest. It'll be really good, just like all the food shooooOOOOoould."