#brunwich

[bergwerkderbilder]

Miller's Lake near Brunwich

endless Witcher 3 gifs

[stcrliiight]

Witcher 3: Wild Hunt - Brunwich 

[leviiackrman]

hi jess! i whole your doing well! i was thinking maybe background + the dear una for the asks if your still taking them? 🖤🥺

Background:

1. Where were they born? What was their childhood like?

Una was born in White Orchard about 2 minutes before her twin brother Isaac! She had a fairly quiet childhood in the village with her family and it was a nice one, but when she started to notice she could use magic, her family panicked a bit and things got complicated

2. What’s their family like?

Her parents were loving and kind to both her and Isaac, they always wanted to keep both safe and would do near on anything for them. When they were about 10, una started to develop her magic and started showing Isaac some tricks but when they told their parents, they grew panicked and didn’t want her to be killed or hunted by those unsavoury to magic users. In the end their parents decided to separate the twins and take them to ‘safe’ places where they could grow and be useful in a way, as well as protected. Yacob (their father) took Una to the Lodge of Sorceresses to be trained by them, while Vespa (their mother) took Isaac to Kaer Morhen to serve the witchers (and eventually become one)

3. What factions or organisations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

She is a mage in the Lodge of Sorceresses. She’s fairly well regarded and high level but she’s also seen as the ‘baby’ to the group because of how much younger and newer she is to magic

4. How do they fit into their ‘story’?

I equate Una and Isaac to being side characters in certain quests of The Witcher 3 storyline. Both meet respected characters at either of their new homes/places of work (like Una growing close with Yennefer and some of the other sorceresses, while Isaac is seen as the runt but still a friend/ally to Geralt and the other witchers) they help out in a lot of ways (majorly during the hunt to find ciri - as una has always had a bit of a crush since meeting her one time lmao) a lot of the twins reunion after so many years of not seeing each other is set during the third games timeline (the hunt to find ciri being the main instigator) and so their stories work alongside the main one.

Una is very dedicated to her work and is always studying while doing other tasks - she has a somewhat secret fascination with necromancy that has aided her prolonged life and lack of ageing, but her main reasoning is to keep her family safe when she is reunited with them (except she is unaware that both sadly died after the twins were separated and sent away)

5. Where do they currently live? What’s their place like?

She travels around a lot for work purposes, but has a small cottage in a dense woodland not far from Brunwich village. It’s fairly cluttered and dusty as she doesn’t tend to spend time cleaning, but is decorated with lots of finery and trinkets from her work/travel! She has a v dark aesthetic (think dark academia but with more fantastical elements) and she lets Madame Lucille (her pet snake) have free reign of the house! The only element she keeps spotless is her bedroom with lots of silk sheets and draperies for when she has company tehe

6. How do they eventually die?

I honestly am not sure. I haven’t planned when she’d die or how tbh, but if I were to think off the top of my head now - it’d be something to do with her necromancy going wrong or being too powerful.

Maybe a ritual to bring her parents back to life or something but her emotions are too intertwined in the casting and so it grows too powerful and ends up corrupting her/killing her? Whatever it is Isaac AND ciri would be heartbroken or would try and prevent it as best they could

[aghostfromtheages]

Damned Devotion

This is a little self indulgent project I was motivated to work on after my last play through of the Witcher (I needed some OlgierdxReader). It takes place over four chapters which are being posted on AO3. I will include the link in a comment on this post. (Edit: 2/4 chapters now up on AO3)

You meet the same man four different times.

Your grandmother's fairytales never went like this.

Chapter 1: Once

The water was cold.

Cold enough to make you falter as you stepped into the river. The current was more gentle here than upstream, nearer your new home, more languid. It tugged softly at you as it passed, washing the last remnants of sleep from your body. Your dream was not shrugged off so easily. Though you barely remembered it, the feeling it left you with haunted you still. Empty. Cold. Maybe all those stories about your grandmother having elf-blood weren’t so far fetched. You slipped under the surface briefly, wetting your hair. Telling portents, predicting the gender of a child; your grandmother had been known for her small magicks. More luck than anything, or so your mother insisted. 

You remembered little from your dream, or had it been a nightmare? Boars filled your cottage, spilling from the front door, trampling your garden. There was blood, a storm of snow, and a man with fiery red hair and eyes like flint. The rest was a half-forgotten muddle. You ran your hands over the flat river stones. If you had inherited any of your grandmother’s fortune-telling ability, you couldn’t imagine what your dream could signify.

Morning sun dappled the water and nearby bank, burning up the veil of mist that still hung about the river. Your body having finally adjusted to the cool water, you swam leisurely upstream. 

When you saw the man, your breath caught in your throat. He was different from your dream,  clutching his side and leading his horse. His eyes were shrewd and sharp, not quite the flinty coldness that pierced your dreams. You had never seen such eyes before. Dropping yourself into the water, you peered through the reeds as he attempted to forge the river, nervous horse in tow.

"Lost, are you?" Your curiosity overcame your hesitancy, and you called out, hiding your nakedness as best you could beneath the water. 

Your words stopped the man in his tracks, thigh-deep in the river, mere meters from you. He loosened his grip on his horse’s reins and drew a long curved blade from a sash belted about his waist. He swung it lazily, searching for the origin of your voice as he steadied himself. 

"Now now, if you are some vila or nixie trying to tempt me, you'd best search elsewhere." He swept the blade through the reeds mere feet from where you sat, continuing forward. "I won't be easy prey."

You wheeled back, splashing into the shallows of the river, narrowly escaping the arc of the blade, exclaiming in irritation. 

The man's horse, a disheveled looking bay,  jerked in surprise at your movement, pulling the reins from its master’s hand. Quickly, you plucked your clothing from the bank, wishing to protect any modesty you had left. You peered over your shoulder as the man struggled to calm his mount. "I am no water witch," you said indignantly, as you pulled on a tunic. "And I would not wait around to banter with local men if I was one."

The man shushed his horse, eyes slipping from your half-naked form to the other bank and back, finally running up your body and settling on your eyes. He set a hand tenderly on his bloodied side again.

“Of course,” his tone betrayed the sarcasm underlying the propriety of his speech. “Maids often spend their mornings bathing naked in forest streams.” He sucked in a strained breath, trying hard to look unaffected, though you could see fresh blood had seeped through the brocade of his coat.

"Do you know in which direction the closest township lays?"

"Brunwich is not half a day by foot. Much faster by horse, I'm sure." You paused and then added, "My lord." Surreptitiously, if only for your own safety, as he appeared dressed in the most expensive, but worn, finery. You'd not lived there long, so you had not had time to become familiar with the local manors and families. 

He looked in the direction you point and nodded in agreement, but did not contradict the title you’d given him nor allowed you his name. Instead, he added, rather diffidently, “And the nearest healer?”

You flicked the water from your trousers with a practiced snap. “Why... you almost beheaded her.”

The man lifted his chin. He had the good graces to look somewhat remorseful. “Apologies, for my… ah, impulsive reaction. Although...” he frowned, “it is unusual to find a woman so at ease this far from town…”

Having finally pulled on the rest of your clothing, you unsheathed a very large hunting knife from the belt at your waist. As if in answer, you brandished it with no small amount of deftness. “Now, we can stand here and exchange pleasantries all day, or I can try and keep you from attracting drowners with all that blood you’re feeding into the river.” Without waiting for a response, you bent to collect the riverside herbs you had previously harvested and motioned him forward. “You’re lucky I called out to you.”

  Back at the small cottage you called home, the bay horse wandered your garden, while crow calls echoed from freshly plowed fields nearby. Inside, you gingerly peeled away the man’s once white undershirt, revealing deep lacerations that spanned his chest and ribs. You placed your fingers lightly on the oozing wound, causing the man to flinch and groan. Despite the large quantity of blood, the wound appeared clean and fairly surface level, only having reached past the muscle to the rib bones in a couple of spots. For all the damage, it must have been a glancing blow. 

“I’ll need to clean the wound and then stitch some of the deeper lacerations closed. I have some fresh beggartick blossom for the pain-” The man grunted, interrupting you. 

“Tch, I appreciate your concern, but-” he flinched, knuckles white where he gripped the edge of the table, as you poured vodka over the wound, “-I would prefer to be fully lucid.” You raised your brow, but said nothing as you rinsed your hands and then cauterized the needle for suturing. Making quick work threading the needle, you gently placed a hand against the man’s chest and began your stitching. His body was etched in old scars. They seemed synonymous with battle wounds one would find on a soldier. You remember seeing similar scars on a cadaver in one of the medical classes at the Academy. Another hint to your patient’s background. You frowned.

“And what, pray tell, caused such a wound? The townspeople should know if there are horrors haunting their forest.” 

“A big fucking bear.” Before you could stop him, he took a swig from the distilled vodka. “My band and I came upon it in the middle of a hunt. I was trying to find my way to Brunwich after getting separated from them when I found you.” 

“It would seem we have very differing opinions on who found who.” You snipped the trailing ends off of the silk suture before stepping back to regard your work. 

The man gave a low whistle, "My, my, you are a damn skilled woman." The stitches were not too tight, not too loose, some of your best work. He ran a thumb lightly over the thread.

Smiling, you gently swatted his hand away while you worked to apply a salve of yarrow and calendula to the area, before bandaging. "Well, I didn't spend all that time at the Academy without learning a few things." 

"Is that so? I have naught to pay you with now…"

You looked the man over as you tidied your supplies. "I figured not. I am new to this part of the province, so the least you could tell me is your name."

The man slowed in his dressing, as if surprised at the question. "Of course… I'm Olgierd von Everec." He hesitated, and then continued past your lack of reaction. "My family owned a manor house not far from here… Or rather, used to."

So, a disgraced lord then. That explained a few things.

You watched him finish dressing out of the corner of your eye. He held himself with the easy confidence of someone born into nobility, yet he moved with the measure of someone with martial experience. You followed him out the door, to where his horse grazed in a patch of clover.

"I will repay you." He promised, holding your gaze as he did at the river. You nodded to placate him, patting the nose of his horse as he pulled himself into the saddle. He wouldn’t be the first customer to stiff you on payment.

Standing in your garden you watched as Olgierd von Everec spurred his horse into a gallop, jumped the fence at the edge of the road and finally disappeared past the turn at the crossroads.

The summer wore on. You settled into your life as a herbalist and healer, receiving visitors that came as far as Oxenfurt. Your dreams no longer bothered you, and you started to forget about your encounter with the remarkable man at the river.

Weeks later you found a basket at your door. Inside was a small pouch, containing seven crowns and a fresh bottle of vodka. Underneath it, folded in half, laid a bear pelt.

[lvgvs]

@nirgama​ The Witcher 3

He had been travelling through the Deadwight Wood for days now, searching for a creature, following a lead. It had drawn him away from Brunwich and further south, closer to the old Temerian border and the shores of Oxenfurt. It had brought him deeper and deeper into the cursed forest, to places where vines and roots entangled themselves into nets and the crows were so hostile that even he feared what might be lurking in the mist. It was everywhere, this mist, clinging to the forest floor, detained by the unbreakable canopy of leaves above his head. This forest was ancient, it was strong, and over the decades it had grown hostile to men and their steel. The young man almost longed for the open yet charred fields of Velen, where undead creatures and ghouls were the only things he came across. Those monsters were dangerous, but easy to hunt. But this forest? This forest was vigilant, it thought and moved. It was ready to attack.

Sky had passed ancient elven ruins, animals and beasts, and more than once he had been forced to backtrack around a bandit camp. So far away from Redania's cities and laws this place was filled with even more darkness than the lawless hills of former Temeria's No Man's Land. And he was growing weary of the hunt. What use was there in fighting creatures that hid so far in the wilderness they possessed danger only for bandits and travelers stupid enough to get lost in the Deadwight Wood? But as soon as he considered turning around the trees opened up and he suddenly stood face to face with another ruin. Not as ancient as the great buildings of the Elves, no, this was an ugly men-made castle, rotten and overgrown. Was this the place Silva's notes had been talking of?

He moved slowly now, carefully, ready to strike should there indeed be some creature hidden by mist, some crow ahead filled with sinister intentions. The castle was worn down, the stone steps that led to its entrance crooked and dirty. He moved upward, one hand already on the handle of his sword, back arched down and his eyes ever wandering. It was in moments like this when he wondered if it had been a mistake to never finish his Witcher training completely. What would he give for the profits of a potion?

Mikolaj had tried, all these years ago. But Mikolaj was gone, died screaming, and Sky was still here, still searching for the why. 

His thoughts took too much of his attention away from his surroundings and before he realised what was happening, something jumped at him from the shadows. Sky threw himself sideways, out of the way, he landed on his arm, body already moving to roll over and bring him back to his knees. He reached for his sword once more and saw himself eye to eye with a dog-like beast. 

"Oh, crap", he mumbled as the beast lunged forward again, leaving him with nothing to do but to hurry out of the way once more. In one fleeting motion Sky drew his sword and, while turning around, brought it down upon the beasts body. He had expected to come face to face with wolves, for they were servants of the leshen and it was that ancient creature he was looking for. His teacher would have been furious to see him waste a good sword on an animal where something cheaper might have sufficed. But once his silver sword cut through the flesh of this dog the animal turned into nothing but a faint wisp of smoke.

A Barghest, not a wolf. 

Good thing he had picked silver over steel. Sky slowly turned around, scanning his surroundings but there were no more phantom dogs hiding in the shadows. He felt hope rising in his chest in the face of this new development. Phantom dogs were worse than wolves, but if this place was haunted by Barghests and not by a Leshen there was a bigger chance of him surviving at all. Once his heart beat calmed down a little he raised his gaze to the sky. He could see grey clouds drifting over the treeline, but before he could decide if it was still day or already night - Barghests usually haunted and hunted during the night  - a scream pierced through the silence of the now hushed forest. 

High pitched and desperate. A man fearing for his life. 

"That is definitely a development for the worse", Sky mumbled before he hurried the remaining steps up into the castle. He passed the old battered down gate and reached some kind of atrium. It took him only a heartbeat to access the situation. There was a girl, strange clothing, brave face, armed with - a stick? - and a knight in front of her, sword-hand trembling in the face of three phantom dogs. The creatures began to surround them with careful steps, their tendons tense, ghostly muscles ready to strike. The knight looked as pale as the ghosts themselves, ready to collapse any minute. It would have been interesting to see him face off against these creatures and for a moment Sky was tempted to simply let it happen, especially once he realised that the man's face was a familiar one. 

François, bloody idiot. 

But the girl did not deserve to find a painful and slow death in a place as forgotten and dirty as this. And so, not without rolling his eyes, Sky jumped from the stairs into the courtyard, burrying his sword deep in another phantom-dog. "Good evening, François", a bright smile on his face, Sky turned around - Riven had once told him of a Witcher that danced with a sword in hand rather than fought - and came to a halt side by side with the cowardly knight, "You look rather ill old friend, in need of a helping hand?"

The next Barghest attacked and Sky tackled François in the same moment, making sure the man was out of reach of the beast, ripping his own sword upward to defend his throat against the creatures sharp teeth. They might have been made of smoke and anger, but they were deadly nonetheless. "Find a place to hide", he called over his shoulder towards the girl and then realised - not without delight - that she was already standing her ground, fending of the last of the spirits. This one has fire, he thought, more than François at least. But on the other hand, it was not very hard to be braver than François. He was a good man, maybe even a good knight. But he was terrible when it came to monsters and ghosts. 

The battle continued on as they moved around the courtyard. "Pleasure to meet you, milady", Sky greeted once he was back to back with the stranger, "Though I must say this is quite an odd place for a picnic with a knight"

[deepbluefrog]

For my second play through, I wanted to improve fast travel and most of all, disable that damn teleport straight to the Hangman Tree and instead having to go from Vizyma / White Orchard to the Nilfgaard garisson in the south of Velen. I wanted to have to ride up to the Hangman tree and actually discover Velen along the way.

I studied the Long Journey Extended mod for The Witcher 3 to adapt it. This mod is a perfect base for what I needed - a toned down Fast Travel system that only enables roads that make sense and forces you to actually travel for the rest.

I ended up with a few tweaks:

a solution to the issue of fast traveling to unknown/undiscovered signposts

conditional routes that unlock after a certain destination is known (a ferry on the Pontar from Oxenfurt to the Nilfgaard camp in White Orchard for example).

fast travel to the outskirt of Kaer Morhen in addition to the main entrance

I posted the result on my GitHub page if anyone wants to take a look. It includes additional routes and a new conditional logic.

I haven't fully tested tall the routes yet but the early ones between White Orchard, Vizyma and Velen are working. I also included a full description of the changes I made.

These changes are for my own gameplay mostly, but looking at other comments on the Long Journey mod page, they may be helpful for some people.

Installation

Install the original Long Journey mod first

Install the files in this GitHub repo inside "The Witcher 3\Mods\modLongJourneyExtended" folder

Run TheWitcher3ModManager.exe to merge the changes with your mods

Changes to the Fast Travel system

Outside of Fast Travel, the map will show you all known Sign posts as landscape markers. When attempting Fast Travel, the map will show you only Sign posts unlocked for travel to or from the Sign post you are currently using.

I added a short fast travel route from Mulbrydale to the Hangman tree for people who would want to ride their way from the Southern Nilfgaard camp up to the center of Velen and properly trigger the next stage of the main quest.

As an alternative, you can fast travel directly from the Southern Nilfgaard camp to the Hangman tree.

Detailed Fast Travel routes available

Routes available by default:

Vyzima <-> Novigrad nilfgaard big camp on south

Vyzima <-> White orchard Sawmill

White orchard Sawmill <-> Novigrad nilfgaard big camp on south (skip Vyzima)

White orchard cackler bridge <-> Kaer Morhen

Mulbrydale <-> Hangman Tree (to preserve main quest checkpoint)

Novigrad nilf big camp on south <-> Hangman Tree (to preserve main quest checkpoint)

Unlocked routes when the destination is known or discovered during quests:

Crow's Perch <-> Novigrad nilfgaard big camp on south

Novigrad docks <-> Skellige (Craite Harbor)

Brunwich village (HS) <-> Kaer Morhen

Toussaint Lebioda Statue Harbor <-> Vyzima

Toussaint Lebioda Statue Harbor <-> Novigrad nilf big camp on south

Toussaint Lebioda Statue Harbor <-> Toussaint Beauclair Harbor

Ferry on the Pontar - Unlock the routes by discovering the destinations first.

Bayors Ferry Station <-> White orchard Nilfgaard camp

Oxenfurt Harbor <-> White orchard Nilfgaard camp

Novigrad Piers <-> White orchard Nilfgaard camp

Novigrad Piers <-> Oxenfurt Harbor

[bruxamaeve]

The creature wiped away at the blood which dripped from her chin and paled breast. With head cocked toward the night sky, it pooled into her belly, coursed through her veins and warmed her flesh. A shrill chorus of a gathering of night birds pierced the stillness of the forest. Her body shuddered violently, bones twisting and crackling like snapping twigs, forcing her into a huddled mass on the ground—until a beast no longer remained. A nude woman staggered forward in its place, intoxicated in the triumph of a night well-fed. It was almost as if she were in a trance, with eyes as black as obsidian, singing beneath her breath in a foreign tongue. She crouched down to the level of the victim. Her fingers gently ran along the remnants of his torso—drained of nearly all its content. She brought her fingertips to her tongue to lap up the last of what remained before the frost hit—and before a soul would happen upon the crime.

Once the remains were disposed of in a makeshift funeral pyre, she found herself at the mouth of a brook near the campsite. The woman dove beneath the frigid waters to rid herself of the stench of death. Over the course of her more than century-long existence, this had become part of a monotonous, almost ritualistic routine. Yet it never quite satiated the hunger.

Maeve was a cursed woman. She was doomed to live out the rest of her days as a bruxa in a foreign land. While those of her kind hid on the fringes of society, in caves and ruins, Maeve found herself in the hearts of cities. She was a curious creature, drawn to the western culture she so adamantly rejected in her mortal days. The social climate of this side of the continent differed extensively from her homeland over the mountains. So, she fed on into the hedonistic law of the land, assuming roles that played to her talents in order to maintain a steady food supply and shelter.    

She emerged from the stream, then dawned a pair of dark leather trousers pulled over her waist, and fine silk blouse cinched beneath a boned black bustier; a velvet cloak lined with fur which bore no emblems, and thigh-length boots worn by extensive travel. The scent of blood was replaced with the permeating aroma of bergamot, jasmine, and juniper. 

Maeve mounted old whatshisname’s horse—a tawny mare with a worn straddle—bolting into the darkness with haste. She traveled until every last ounce of light left the sky, before being greeted by torch fire into the tiny town of Brunwich just as the first snow hit the ground. Although travelers claimed it was a picturesque haven in daylight, there wasn’t much about the small village to write home about; and it wasbeyond the jurisdiction of the Lord she served. 

BLIND BARBER INN—

The Blind Barber was a humble little inn in the heart of Brunwich. And though its size was a testament to the small population, it seemed as if it were patronized by the entire village. There was hardly an empty bench in the tavern, the chaotic atmosphere filled with laughter, chatter, jeers and whatever else drunks did. Maeve stood at the bar as she waited for her ale, her dark eyes lingering past the barkeep as her mind wandered. All chatter was reduced to a monotonous hum—at least, until a man slammed his pint against the wooden counter. Maeve remained motionless, unfazed.         

“Not wise for a woman to be traveling by her lonesome,” he slurred, moving in closer to catch a glimpse of her face. The stench was overpowering. 

“Not wise of you to speak to strangers,” she snapped. Her voice was husky, rich like honey, and paired with an unusual accent not often heard on this side of the continent. 

“A stranger indeed, clearly you ain’t from around here,” he blathered on. “But you ain’t no backdoor Sally I’ve ever seen neither.” Maeve met the comment with stone-cold silence, her gloved fingertips tapping impatiently along the bar top. Her eyes remained fixated on her pint of ale, as she brought it to her lips to take a swig. At this rate, mortal drinks were just as flavorful as water. The drunkard continued, his tone loud and unpleasant: “Nah, them silks don’t just come from anywhere.”

‘Oh for fuck’s—’ “Do you mind?” Maeve sneered, and though her lips were pulled into a grin, her eyes were like daggers. Her fingers found their way around the hilt of the small blade tucked beneath her belt in an effort to dissuade him from pursuing further conversation. She pivoted on the balls of her feet to make her leave, stopping dead in her tracks upon the sight of him, sitting by his lonesome in the very far corner of the tavern—the White One. 

It was then that Maeve weighed her options, between a room full of drunks and a monster hunter, she figured the latter would prove to be more entertaining company. She made her way toward the back table while the room stared on with a collectively baited breath, until there was an uneasy silence that overtook the pub. 

“Mind if I join you, witcher?” 

[thirstyforred]

I'm gonna just talk about Salamandra, because honestly we kinda have the most lore about them from TW1, and all other Syndicate stuff is either in TW3 or in Slama's self-insert ff, there are also some bits and pieces in the reward trees

Anyway, Salamandra wasn't exactly a Novigrad gang, tho it's probable that the idea of it was conceived in that city, but they operated in Vizima, the capital of Temeria. They're mostly just a cartel making fisstech and distributing it in Temeria, can find the quote but likely also selling it to Novigrad gangs. Brothers Gellert and Roland Bleinheims were responsible for collecting materials from forests around Vizima and developing the drug in sewers.

But that drug dealing was kinda only a front for alchemists and mages running human experiments, that were kinda exactly what was doing Alzur when he tried to create witchers that 200 years before. That part of the operation was run by Professor and Azar Javed, with some other renegade mages like Savolla. They attacked Kear Mohren and had stolen mutagens that definitely sped up their experimentations and led to the creation of many fucked up mutants. Also, again just like Alzur and his ilk, they made some construct insectoids, like Savolla's Frightener and Koshchey. Rayla, who died fighting for the Order of Flaming Rose, and Salamandra was able to easily get her body, is their best creation I would say? Hard to say what exactly they did to her, but they made her the witcher lite goth version.

But Salamandra was doing all of this because of their actual leader, who was so top secret that only Azar Javed and Professor actually knew they're working for someone else. And that guy was Jacques de Aldersberg. Also known as that other Elder Blood kid Geralt adopted, Alvin.

To simplify, JdA's whole deal was that he knew that the White Frost is coming, and figured out that the best shot at survival humanity has is all be mutated like witchers. Because witchers are just superior versions of humans. So he created this drug cartel, that's actually a front for renegade mages, but he also was the Grandmaster of the Order of Flaming Rose.

This Oder originally wasn't a part of the Church of Eternal Fire structures, it was regular knightly order, but JdA just made it be and also moved the core of the organization from Novigrad to Vizima. There knights of the Order were basically those noble monster hunters, like Siegfried of Denelse. Also, JdA managed to get pretty comfy on Foltest's court, and for example, make Roderick de Wett king's advisor. Few knights, like Roderick, were aware of their Salamandra ties and JdA's long term plans, namely, to make Adda believe both Order and Salamandra is going to support her as the queen of Temeria - so then they would simply take over the kingdom. And mutate people on a bigger scale I guess.

After Geralt revealed that whole plot and killed JdA, Salamandra was basically destroyed, and, idk in how many endings is it canon, but Siegfried became the new Grandmaster. But by TW3 most of the Order split into fractions, some of the likely returned to Novigrad and joined Mage Hunters, some with Siegfried de Löwe [maaaybe it's just Siegfried of Denelse] holed up in a castle in Brunwich somewhere in Redania, and some became the Fallen Knights under Ulrich. The Fallen Knights are basically what was left of knights who doubled as Salamandra agents - they tried to recreate the formula and get back on Novigrad's streets with their fisstech.

i am not, by any stretch of the imagination, good enough to play Syndicate, but god I fucking love the Syndicate deck. tell me more about Novigrad’s hideous underbelly of Salamandra mages, ghost merchant ships, the mutant gladiator pits, whatever the fuck happened to turn Rayla into a fucking revenant??, backalley alchemists, Gudrun Björnsdóttir & her former pirates who use boarding hooks to scale buildings, the sewers— also the sheer number of cards that aren’t even characters just crimes, ugh it’s so great

[bergwerkderbilder]

Brunwich

endless Witcher 3 gifs

[bergwerkderbilder]

endless Witcher 3 gifs

[bergwerkderbilder]

Brunwich

endless Witcher 3 gifs

[bergwerkderbilder]

Brunwich Chapel and Novigrad

endless Witcher 3 gifs

[bergwerkderbilder]

endless Witcher 3 gifs

[bergwerkderbilder]

Bald Mountain, and near the lake at Brunwich

endless Witcher 3 gifs

[bergwerkderbilder]

Witcher 3 Scenery

the lake near Brunwich

[bergwerkderbilder]

Redania in colour palettes