Siren's Call

A Meeting

                Geralt really should have used some of his potions. He cursed as his side twinged, one spiked leg had ripped a gash all along his side that was going to really be a bitch to try and clean out before it closed up. There was a faint pounding in his ears and he was fairly confident he'd pulled a hamstring. Even with his mutations he was going to be walking gimpy for a little bit. Maybe he was getting old. Witchers don't retire, when they get old and slow enough, eventually something comes along that's faster and stronger. Oh well. He shook that thought from his mind, and continued making his limping way back to town, dragging the kikimora head behind him. He was going to have to get supplies to make more potions though.

Business proceeded as usual once he got to the town. The mayor was simultaneously deeply horrified, stingy, and suspicious. Without Jaskier to herald his praises and soften the suspicion aimed at him no one in the town was welcoming, and he got a lot of dirty looks and muttered curses, although none were bold enough to openly tell him to leave. Somehow it stung more than it ever had before Jaskier started singing his praises.

He wondered idly if Jaskier would start singing songs now to mar his reputation. It wouldn't take much before he would be chased out of every town he set foot in.

He reeked of kikimora guts but he had been told by the mayor, after he had sufficiently intimidated him, that there was a small group of hedge-witches, potion-makers, and snake oil salesmen that just might have the potion ingredients he needed staying at the town inn. They had announced they were leaving at first light, it was almost noon now and Geralt highly doubted they'd left yet. Still it wouldn't hurt to hurry and besides, a good splattering of kikimora guts always helped price negotiations along.

Sure enough, when Geralt shouldered open the somewhat rickety door to the inn he spied a group of rag-tag adventurer types clustered around a table. There was a general air of about-to-leave about them but they hadn't quite left yet. He heard snatches of conversation.

"Look Gim was supposed to be back hours ago-"

"I don't..............leave without....-"

"Only...........can control that bloody thing-"

As he walked closer he heard the woman who appeared to be their self-appointed leader say firmly. "I say we go ahead and kill it now. Gim was the only one who could cast a strong enough spell to keep it under wraps and it looks like he's scarpered."

His curiosity piqued, Geralt hovered within hearing range. It never hurt to listen in to the odd bit of gossip and it seemed they weren't going anywhere fast.

One man, a potion-maker by the smell of him, all chemical burns and sharp eyes, protested. "Look you have no idea how much valuable stuff I could harvest off that thing! It would quite literally make our fortunes, and we'll never have this chance again. Look I'm sure I can brew up a sleeping potion to knock it out and then-"

He was cut off by the woman who'd spoke initially, her jewelry jingling as she shook her head vehemently. "Our fortunes are no good to us if our throats are cut in our sleep! You know damn well you won't be able to brew up a potion that will work! You've had your chance and you couldn't get anything to work, and besides we don't want anyone asking uncomfortable questions, not with the way it looks now, we kill it now, harvest what we can, and make good off that."

There were murmurs of agreement, and even the potion-maker seemed to realize he had lost, reverting back to sullen silence. They seemed to have come to a decision and Geralt wasn't going to risk losing them. He walked up to their table.

Predictably, the jewelry-bedecked leader noticed him first. "You need something?" She snapped pugnaciously, her nose wrinkling as she looked him up and down. "Well...besides a bath."

"Potion ingredients." Geralt said shortly, and listed off a short list of the most likely stuff.

There was a pause, and much sideways glancing. Eventually the potion-maker seemed to lose some invisible battle and shrugged. "Yeah I've got most of that, but it'll cost you."

"How much?" Geralt reached for his money bag.

The leader glanced up at him, eyes shrewd. "You're a witcher, yeah? You kill monsters?"

Geralt grunted in affirmation, it looked like he might be the one to take care of their little potion supply problem.

"We've got a bit of a.....well a monster we need taking care of. We caught it back a few days ago and figured we could farm it for ingredients but it's been hell to cart around." She gestured to one of the crew, a sullen, bald-headed man with an extensive bandage covering his bicep, and to a few of the other members of the party, all of whom were bandaged, one of whom was missing fingers. "We thought it ate people but it would just bite chunks out of us and spit 'em out. It's vicious, we tried beating it out of it and dousing it with potions but...well...nothing seemed to work and winters coming and it's just another mouth to feed no matter what this crazy says." She jerked a thumb back at the potion-maker.

"So? Just kill it yourself." Geralt wanted no part of this.

The woman hesitated. "Weeeelll that would be the problem. Ya see, Gim was our mage and he was the only one who could cast any kind of calming spell that would stick and he's been gone all night and well...."

Geralt interrupted her train of thought. "Dark skin, black hair, blue eyes?"

"Oh you've seen him! Well we won't be needing you then, where was the bastard? Shacked up with some girl too young for 'im?"

"I saw his corpse."

There was a nasty little pause before Geralt felt he should probably elaborate. "Kikimora did him in."

The group, or most of them, lowered their eyes for a moment, before the leader seemed to shrug it off. "Ah well, it was bound to happen eventually, Gim wasn't the sharpest knife in the box. I TOLD him it wasn't safe to go wandering off by himself but you know how those with magic can get, think they're invincible-"

Geralt cut her ramblings off. "The potion ingredients."

"Kill our monster and you'll get them. We locked it in our closet but by the sound of it it slipped its ropes and now we don't dare open the door."

"I'll pay in coin." Geralt set his money bag on the table with a very full-sounding thunk. The potion-makers already bright eyes somehow turned it up a notch.

The leader forestalled him from reaching for it. "You'll pay by killing our monster or you'll not get your ingredients." She cut off the potion-maker's protest by firmly placing a hand over his mouth.

"Hmmmm. Fine" He might as well. He wanted to get this over with so he could go soak in a nice bath. "What room are you in?"

"Second door on your left when you go up the stairs."

Geralt walked up the stairs, silver sword in hand. Hopefully this would be quick, for the sake of whatever poor creature those people had picked up as for anything else.

He paused in front of the door, listening. There was a faint scrabbling sound from inside the room, but it was muffled. The creature was still inside the closet. Good.

He opened the door as silently as possible. The room was small and obviously hastily exited. The closet had been thoroughly barred, but something inside was definitely moving. He heard it go still for a minute, and then the door shuddered, hit by a force from inside. That should stun it for a few seconds. Geralt hastily unbarred the door and threw it open, sword ready to strike at whatever was inside.

Blue eyes looked into gold, and the world came crashing down.