#hemmelfart

[dukeofdogs]

Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart

Chest 1: As Hierarch of the Church of the Eternal Fire, Cyrus Hemmelfart is a man of great power and the knowledge of how to wield it. Absolutions, excommunications, indulgences... they are, all of them, excellent tools for applying pressure on allies and foes alike.

Chest 2: Hemmelfart quickly ascended to the peak of the Church's hierarchy and equally quickly became accustomed to the privileges that accompany the position. He adorns himself in silks and satins, drinks rare wines from silver chalices, partakes only of the most sumptuous fare and, discreetly of course, keeps many supple bodies to warm him in his bed...

Chest 3: Many Novigradians often wonder whether the Church of the Eternal Fire's chief ideologue himself even believes in the faith's doctrine. Does he truly believe a new and better world will rise from the ashes of righteous flame? Of course, not a soul would ever utter these questions in public, for they know that those who do find themselves branded heretics and burned alive atop a pyre...

Scroll 1: Hierarch Hemmelfart may have the appearance of a decrepit man with hands shaking from old age and legs shaking beneath his prodigious girth, but that voice! By the gods, a voice that could move mountains!

Scroll 2: Hemmelfart never utters – he thunders. His fiery sermons echo from his temple's gilded halls throughout all the alleys and homes of Novigrad.

Scroll 3: Non-humans, alchemists, mages and sorceresses – all enemies of the Eternal Fire cower at the sound of his booming oration.

Scroll 4: For, although Hemmelfart is no warrior in his own right, his loyal army of Firesworn zealots yearn for a chance to impose their righteousness will upon the wicked.

[polk-polovnikov]

A small revealing explanation for the redrawing of the meme! Although Hemmelfart is the hierarch of the Church of Eternal Fire, he is not as pure as he seems. He can be found among the spectators at the Whoreson's fighting arena, and you can also hear from him the following phrase: "If monsters are not released today, I will accuse this hole of heresy." I have a headcanon that the Junior has to put up with such increased attention from Hemmelfart. It's not that their interests differ much, but I think that all this church husk is alien to the Whoreson and causes irritation. Well, it is also known from lore Gwent that Hemmelfart supplies young adepts as fighters to the arena.👍 Good cooperation, it's a sin to complain.🤩

[endiness]

not to continually rant about this but it is so fucking ridiculous that people keep trying to bring up book!radovid and game!radovid when talking about show!radovid and using it to disparage not only him but his relationship with jaskier (not to mention their fans).

first off, unless i'm mistaken, these are the only references to radovid in the books:

Prince Radovid was a minor, Queen Hedwig had been devastated by the tragic death of her husband - the aristocracy, terrified, had become stupid, and was disunited and divided into factions.

— Baptism of Fire

“I know [Calante] had wedding plans for Ciri, to join her with young Tancred Thyssen of Kovir or perhaps to the Redanian prince, Radovid, I don’t know exactly.”

— The Tower of Swallows

'Long live His Holiness!’ A few voices came from the crowd, obviously bribes. Novigrad’s hierarch Cyrus Englekind Hemmelfart rose and blessed the people and the army with his outstretched hands, while irreverently covering Queen Hedwig and young Radovid with the skirts of his robe.

Nobody shouts, “Long live Radovid”, thought the prince covered by the hierarch’s fat ass. No one even looks at me. No one is screaming in honour of my mother. No one remembers my poor father. Even today, at a day of triumph, which he so richly deserved. After all, that’s why he was murdered.

He felt a gaze on his neck. Delicate like someone he did not know - or knew, but only in his dreams. Something that was soft like a brush of a woman’s warm lips. He turned his head. He discovered the dark unfathomable eyes of Philippa Eilhart fixed on him.

Wait, thought the prince, looking away. Just wait.

No one could predict or guess then that this boy of thirteen years, which at that time was a person without any relevance in a country ruled by the Regency Council and by Dijkstra, would become king. A king who, after he paid all the insults that had been given to his mother and him, would go down in history with the name Radovid the Stern.

— Lady of the Lake

that’s it. that’s all the information about him there is. so coming at show!radovid from the angle of "[spooky voice] ooo people don't know what they're in for with him given how he is in the books~", like, what are you talking about!?

and if we're talking about the games... why? the show is based off the books not the games and even game!radovid is really not based off the books because based off what? there is so little information about book!radovid that the games pretty much did their own thing with him just like the show is doing with their version of radovid. (plus, at the end of the day, the show is still its own thing anyway. it's not the games. it's not the books. it's the show.)

and as far as the whole "but they aged radovid up, ew" thing goes. like, you are not serious people. but ignoring that and pretending like this is some serious argument: radovid in the books hardly exists as a character in the first place so it's not even like the show is taking some well-established child character or anything like that? they've basically just taken his name (which, js, but he’s not even the only radovid in the books; there’s actually multiple kings throughout redania’s history named radovid which the books cover), the location he's from, and the royal title he has and they've made their own character.

[thelostgirl21]

You know what, I think I'm going to say it here, because I believe it deserves to be heard, especially by the people of my own LGBTQ+ community.

If you identify as queer (or any other LGBTQ+ identity), and agree that it is "gross" that Netflix chose to "age up a child" (Prince Radovid), so that he could be put in a romantic and sexual relationship with Jaskier on the Netflix TV show, it is a very good example of what we mean when we talk about internalized homophobia.

It is not your fault; it is something that was done to you and against you.

But I sincerely believe that, sadly, you haven't realized the troubling implications of that argument, nor the way that it is directly targeting the queer community, especially queer men.

Because, in the source material, Prince Radovid and Jaskier are two characters that never interact nor have any type of relationship together.

Actually, Prince Radovid is literally described as "a person without any significance in a country ruled by the Regency Council" (The Lady Of The Lake, Book 7).

[Note for those of you unfamiliar with the books: Prince Radovid appears in a single scene of "The Lady of the Lake", where the young prince gets upset that the other kings (Foltest, Demavend, Henselt) bribed people in the crowd to cheer for them, the Free Company, Hemmelfart, Dijkstra and the Regency Council, without acknowledging the role that his own father had played in making the thing they are all cheering for happen, nor his mother and himself as the actual rulers of Redania (rather than Dijkstra and the Council).

And Sapkowski concludes the scene with one line of epilogue saying that, in the future, he'll make them all pay for those insults, and will become known in history as "Radovid the Stern".]

Had the source material featured a significant friendship between the adult character of Jaskier and 12-year-old Prince Radovid...

Had Jaskier acted as a guardian, teacher, parental figure, etc. to that young boy...

Had they had a canonically established relationship in the source material, featuring an age-related power imbalance between them (like Geralt and Ciri), and

Had Netflix chosen to erase that loving healthy adult-child dynamic - that would've been at the core of their relationship - to replace it with a romantic and sexual relationship instead, I would have 100% understood that it would have made people feel uncomfortable.

Because, had they suddenly decided that Ciri would be a 35-year-old when her home was destroyed and she found herself under Geralt's protection on the show, just so that Geralt could fall in love with his Child of Surprise and have wild heterosexual sex with her, I would have understood why a bunch of people would've gotten upset at Netflix for "only aging up a child so that Geralt could fuck her!"

But we're talking about two characters that never met; including one (Prince Radovid) that is so insignificant to what happens in The Witcher's story (according to Sapkowski, at least), that CD Projekt Red were able to create their own original villain off of him (i.e. inventing a story between him and Philippa where she sort of raised and traumatized him following the death of his father, leading to him becoming fearful and hateful towards mages, etc.), while continuing the story beyond Sapkowski's intended ending (something I'm pretty sure Netflix has no intention of doing for now).

TV show Prince/King Radovid is his own character, that has been written by Netflix to suit the purposes of the show.

Videogame Prince/King Radovid is his own character, that has been written by CD Projekt Red to suit the purposes of the games.

And both of these characters were inspired by "a person without any significance in a country ruled by the Regency Council" in the books, that will one day grow up to become king long after the story of the three main characters has been concluded.

In French, the slur word being used for gay men is a shortened version of a word meaning "grown men having sex with young boys"; and the idea that gay men are naturally more prone to wanting to have sex with children than heterosexual men are has long been one of the most common fears associated with homosexuality.

Saying that they "aged up a child to make Jaskier queer" - while trying to make it sound like it would be immoral or problematic to do so - is thus heavily leaning into the specific belief that gay sex between two queer men is an act of predation.

Agreeing that there's something that should make one feel uncomfortable about Netflix having aged Prince Radovid to suit their own storytelling purposes, including their decision to adapt him as an adult character that becomes romantically and sexually involved with another adult man, is basically openly implying that, since Jaskier is shown as becoming sexually attracted to an adult version of the character, had he and Radovid met in those books, he would still have "naturally harbored sexual desires" for the 12-year-old kid version of him.

It is heavily implying that there could have been something potentially problematic about the relationship dynamic between book Radovid and a queer Jaskier, that Netflix attempted to "fix" by making the character older.

And, if that's not an argument deeply rooted in homophobia, I don't know what is!

Netflix's Prince Radovid is a fully grown adult gay man that falls in love with a fully grown pansexual man.

And, had that same Jaskier from the show (or even the Jaskier from the books, that English readers and gamers also know as "Dandelion") met a 12-year-old Prince Radovid in the books, nothing romantic or sexual would have happened between them.

It's as simple as that.

Nothing gross or unnatural about it.

[lumen-anima]

Hehe~

Maybe my hands look like that because I sign my paintings like this. It'd Hierarch Hemmelfart btw... From our little video game 😚

I'm sorry I was distracted by the gold paint 👀✨

And I have no clue who that is, I haven't played the first 2 games 💀💀💀

[craiteys]

Vivi: “And then I strangled the leshen with my bare hands!”

Lambert: “Yeah, right, and I’m Hierarch Hemmelfart.”

[dukeofdogs]

Master post for Gwent lore pt 1

Base set:

Monsters

Arachas Queen

Eredin Bréacc Glas

Unseen Elder

Woodland Spirit

Scoiatel

Brouver Hoog

Eithné

Filavandrel aén Fidháil

Francesca Findabair

Northern Realms:

Princess Adda 

Demavend

King Foltest

King Henselt

Nilfgaard

Emhyr var Emreis 

Jan Calveit

Morvran Voorhis 

Usurper

Skellige

Bran Tuirseach

Crach an Craite 

Eist Tuirseach 

Harald the Cripple

Year of the Wild Boar:

Thronebreaker

Ardal aep Dahy

Arnjolf

Eldain

Gernichora

Meve

Crimson Curse

Anna Henrietta

Queen Calanthe

Dana Méadbh

Dettlaff van der Eretein

Svalblod

Novigrad

King of Beggars

Cleaver

Sigismund Djikstra

Gudrun Bjornsdottir   

Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart   

Whoreson Junior

Iron Judgment

Merchants of Ofir

Year of the Dire Rat

Master Mirror

Grand Master of the Flaming Rose (Jacques de Aldersberg)

Sparrowhawk (Eredin)

Wrath of Brokilon (Eithné)

The Cripple (Harald the Cripple)

Emperor of Nilfgaard (Usurper)

King of Kerack (Viraxas)

Way of the Witcher

Viy

Erland of Larvik

Arnaghad 

Gezras of Leyda

Ivar Evil-Eye

Fallen Rayla

Year of the Great Oak

Stalwart Leadership

Advanced Tactics

Price of Power

She Who Knows

Duchess of Dol Blathanna

Melusine

Leticia Charbonneau

The Witchfinder

Vilgeforz

Year of The Cursed Toad

Vial of Forbidden Knowledge

Mysterious Puzzle Box

Renfri

Eltibald

Boholt

Sove & Ulula

Dagon

Svalblod Bear

Part 2

[ormakona]

Spoilers!  Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart.

[endiness]

thinking about that one passage about radovid in lady of the lake and how, if anything, i think it'd set up radovid having a resentment toward royalty and any other high ranking members of society and just the political machinations of the continent in general especially considering the surrounding context.

like, the thing that prompts radovid's thoughts of bitterness and resentment is the praise the other kings and officials are all receiving for the war coming to an end — all of which he blames his father's death on — along with the lack of respect he and his mother receive. there's specific mention of how he's nobody of significance because his country is being ruled by a regency council and dijkstra. and there's how when he became king he "paid back all of the insults borne by himself and his mother" and the passage itself has hemmelfart, the hierarch of novigrad, disrespecting them.

and there's that passage in contrast to the other povs from the same chapter, too. like, hemmelfart's thoughts are centered around his prejudice and xenophobia toward dwarves, witchers, non-humans, and just 'heathens' in general. willemer, a priest from temeria, is disgusted by philippa and hates sorceresses and explicitly plays a role in her death in the witch hunts. even the, like, 3 sentences from white rayla’s pov are about her hatred of the scoia’tael and elves. but meanwhile radovid’s thoughts really revolve around his resentment and bitterness toward the upper echelons of society.

[fawnnbinary]

it's okay, it's fine, you've cracked the code, they just didn't have the drive/time to use hierarch Hemmelfart in tw3 or else Radovid would have been fine <3

Character Bingo The Son.

by canon isn't real I DO mean cdpr and netflix canons ksdjhfskdjgh and he's more than a blorbo by proxy by now, but i felt it important to acknowledge his origins dkjfhsdkjgh

[lets-play-gwent]

NEW FIC ALERT-- WIP

Hullo Witcher fandom friends, I have had a lot of trouble getting motivated to write fic lately. Instead of putting a lot of pressure on myself to finish this thing and make it perfect, I am going to post it right now because I am excited about and proud of what I have so far (more fics need to include Zoltan Chivay-- I saw a need and I remidied it). 

THIS IS UNFINISHED. More updates to come.

Jaskier’s heart was thrumming in his ears as he wove through the bustling market crowd. Pull yourself together, this is nothing new, he quietly assured to himself, trying to push the worry out of his mind and focus on exhilaration. The chaos of Novigrad soothed his nerves somewhat; the city was tough, but if there was something Jaskier could handle just fine, it was performing for a crowd. Never mind the fact that his lute was stashed safely back at the Passiflora, or that he would be performing his own death instead of a set of tried and true songs.

Unfortunately, having the reputation of being a skilled lover, talented musician, and rat bastard makes it somewhat difficult to effectively convince people of your demise. Nevertheless, too many people were asking the secret to his flawless skin and lasting youth; it was time to disappear from the Continent once more. It had to be grand, maybe a little bit gory, and very public.

In his heart of hearts Jaskier couldn’t stand putting on such a scene for all his friends and colleagues in Oxenfurt, and by the Gods someone there was bound to notice. So here he was in Novigrad, where the unobservant and bloodthirsty crowd would chatter about his death to every passing traveler but quickly move on in the wake of some other gruesome sight. Little did he know, Jaskier had chosen a deeply historic and tumultuous night to fake a death. Quite a plan, Julian, Jaskier thought to himself, now how to pull it off without getting more than a broken leg…

meanwhile...

“Melitele’s tits!! Arghh!!” Zoltan swore loudly and slammed an empty tankard down on the inn table. “That’s the fifth game tonight. Fuck me, I should know better than to play a fuckin’ Witcher. It’s my own damn fault. Hey—missy—“ he gestured towards the barkeep with a drunken, sultry look. “Get us another round, he’s buying!” The barkeep rolled her eyes but filled two more tankards and brought them to the table. One ‘slipped’ and sloshed about half its contents onto Zoltan’s lap.

“Whoops,” she said, with a grimace that could kill a small animal.

Zoltan’s hand flexed towards his ax, but be soon relaxed and repeated the golden rule under his breath. Don’t fuck with people who handle your ale.

Geralt, observing with delight, coughed back his laughter and swept his Gwent cards together, deftly shuffling them into a neat deck. “Another game?” he asked with a sly smile.

“Fuck off,” Zoltan downed the rest of his ale and belched. “The food here is shite, why don’t we go get some sweet buns at the stall across the way?”

“Sure you’re not just afraid of losing?” Geralt stood and slung his swords over his back.

“I said fuck off!”

*********

Music grew louder and lights grew brighter as the sinking sun sparkled across the seaport. It was a celebration like none other Geralt had seen—the typically stoic and hardworking women of the fish market danced in the streets, twirling their skirts and flashing their chemises. Drunks laughed and sang with aristocrats in the gutter. This was no usual festival.

Geralt leaned over to one of the fishmongers and nudged her arm. “Excuse me, what’s going on?”

“HE’S DEAD! THE SUNOVABITCH IS DEAD!”

“Who?”

“WE’RE FREE!! WE DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO HIS BULLSHIT ANYMORE!” Her words dissolved into hysterical laughter.

Geralt’s heartrate quickened as he pushed through the crowd to hear more. “Who—who died??” He tried not to let his mind wander too far. It had been months since he saw Jaskier, and their last encounter had been somewhat tense. They were so caught up with trying to find Ciri, and Geralt sailed off to Skellige as soon as he could. Gods know what shitpuddle the bard got himself in since then, Geralt thought to himself. But would people… fuck, could he really…?

Finally, someone turned around and answered him directly. “He’s dead! The scoundrel hierarch Cyrus Engelkind Hemmelfart is dead!”

Despite himself, Geralt threw his head back and let out a deep, hearty laugh and turned to Zoltan, who was bracing two frothy tankards against the jostle of the crowd. “Free ale, Geralt! Cheers to another cocknose crown six feet under!”

“He wasn’t a king,” the Witcher took one of the tankards and chugged.

“Ah, shut it you crusty old bastard. It’s a cause for celebration and you know it! Think of the party we could have. You know—hey, isn’t that Jaskier?”

[thirstyforred]

✦ thirsty's fav gwent cards (307/∞) Cyrus Hemmelfart - Congregate

“ Hierarch of the Eternal Fire, enthusiast of the arena, glutton of feasts, and luster of whores. “

[endiness]

the show is based off the books not the games, and the only information about radovid in the books is this:

Prince Radovid was a minor, Queen Hedwig had been devastated by the tragic death of her husband - the aristocracy, terrified, had become stupid, and was disunited and divided into factions.

— Baptism of Fire

“I know [Calante] had wedding plans for Ciri, to join her with young Tancred Thyssen of Kovir or perhaps to the Redanian prince, Radovid, I don’t know exactly.”

— The Tower of Swallows

'Long live His Holiness!’ A few voices came from the crowd, obviously bribes. Novigrad’s hierarch Cyrus Englekind Hemmelfart rose and blessed the people and the army with his outstretched hands, while irreverently covering Queen Hedwig and young Radovid with the skirts of his robe.

Nobody shouts, “Long live Radovid”, thought the prince covered by the hierarch’s fat ass. No one even looks at me. No one is screaming in honour of my mother. No one remembers my poor father. Even today, at a day of triumph, which he so richly deserved. After all, that’s why he was murdered.

He felt a gaze on his neck. Delicate like someone he did not know - or knew, but only in his dreams. Something that was soft like a brush of a woman’s warm lips. He turned his head. He discovered the dark unfathomable eyes of Philippa Eilhart fixed on him.

Wait, thought the prince, looking away. Just wait.

No one could predict or guess then that this boy of thirteen years, which at that time was a person without any relevance in a country ruled by the Regency Council and by Dijkstra, would become king. A king who, after he paid all the insults that had been given to his mother and him, would go down in history with the name Radovid the Stern.

— Lady of the Lake

both game and show radovid may as well be ocs named radovid given how little information there is about him in the books.

Jaskier (Dandelion) being paired with Radovid is the most monkeys paw queer rep in fantasy 😭 yeah ur bard is obviously bisexual. For Fantasy Hitler :)

[batgurl1989]

Running With The Wolf Chapter 3

Summary: You and Geralt get into Novigrad, and go to visit your friends.

Word Count: 2500

Warning: Spoilers for Witcher 3 video game

A/N: It’s a little longer than what I normally write, I hope it doesn’t bore you. If you want to be added or removed from my taglist, let me know :)

Chapter One  Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Taglist: @rmtndew​ @princesssterek​ @djinny-djin-djin​ @cynic-spirit​ @henrynerdfan​

Chapter Three

When you arrived at the Glory Gate the next morning it was still early. The markets hadn’t opened yet, but there was still a line up to get inside the city. Soldiers were slowly letting people through, searching them before they were granted entrance into Novigrad. You crossed your arms, hugging yourself tight. Geralt had suggested you leave the horses outside the city, and had paid someone to look after them, but right now you wished you could distract yourself with Marabelle’s mane or the reins.  

“Calm down. If you keep looking like that, the guards will definitely get suspicious.” Luck was not on your side, and Geralt noticed. He nudged you with his elbow, trying to get you to loosen up before the soldiers looked your way. “The letter will get us in. You will be fine.”

“They have Dimeritium handcuffs sitting right there on the table. They are clearly expecting to find some people who know magic.” You kept your voice low, but you knew the panic you felt could be heard. “I can’t do much once those handcuffs are on me.”

“They won’t be.” Geralt’s voice dripped with promise. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, when you noticed the letter sticking out his crossed arms. He wiggled it enough for you to see the seal on it. The Eternal Fire.

“How did you convince Hierarch Hemmelfart to give you that?” You fought to keep your voice down, enough people were looking your way because of the Witcher you stood beside. You didn’t need to draw more attention.

“Does it matter?” Geralt challenged. Looking down at you, he raised his eyebrow. After mulling it over in your head, you shrugged and let it go.

As you stepped up to the table, the guards gave Geralt a once over, lingering on his white hair and golden eyes. Your heartbeat jack-hammered in your ribs, but on the outside, you looked to remain calm. The two running the table shared a look, their hands going to their swords on their hips. Before they could draw them, however, Geralt handed them the sealed letter without a word. The gold filigree around the seal caught their attention, and they relaxed their sword hands.

“Go on through.” The one soldier said gruffly as his eyes skimmed the letter. Geralt held out his hand to take the letter back, causing the guard to laugh and toss it over the bridge into the river surrounding Novigrad. “I don’t think so. You may have been allowed into Novigrad this time, but I want to make sure there isn’t a next time. Your kind spread diseases, dissension, and desertion.”

You felt a flash of anger rip through you, the heat of it reddening your cheeks. You were about to throw caution to the wind and step forward to defend Geralt and put this guard in his place, but Geralt gently grabbed your wrist, keeping you at his side. Huffing out your rage, you bit your tongue and remained quiet as you and the Witcher crossed the bridge.

“I can’t believe how ignorant these people can be!” You burst out once you were safely out of hearing range. The streets were still fairly empty, just a few beggars out early to catch the people on their way to the market. “’Spread diseases’! UGH!”

“There isn’t much thought put into the insults anymore, and there are none left I haven’t heard.” Geralt shrugged, seeming to not be phased by the insult. He gestured down the street leading to the Chameleon, and you headed in that direction, your anger boiling down to a simmer.

The tavern was open, as always, but it was mostly just drunks from the night before sleeping it off on the tables. Zoltan was behind the bar, humming while wiping down dishes. He didn’t seem to hear you come in, but when Geralt made for the stairs to go look for Dandelion, a dagger flew across the room and embedded itself in the wall in front of Geralt’s face.

“You think to sneak by without so much as a hello?” Zoltan grumbled as he wandered over to you. He frowned at Geralt as he pulled the dagger from the wall. “Dandelion is not going to be happy about the hole.”

“Then you shouldn’t have put it there.” Geralt raised his eyebrow. He wasn’t about to go down for something he didn’t do. Witchers were said to not feel anything, but they didn’t enjoy getting tangled in the lies of others.

“Hi Zoltan.” You stepped up the Dwarf, placing a kiss on his cheek. That seemed to break the ice, and the frown left his face. The hole was a thing of the past, and looking around, you noticed that it wasn’t the only hole in the wall anyway.

“Ah, sweet Younin, it’s always a pleasure to be graced with your presence.” Zoltan smiled warmly at you, his eyes travelling over you. “You look to be in one piece even though you are traveling with this one.”

“She has been more of a troublemaker than me this time.” Geralt grinned, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. That piqued Zoltan’s interest, and the Dwarf turned to you with new interest lighting his face.

“Hardly.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. That didn’t seem to satisfy Zoltan, who raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Both he and Geralt knew what you could be like, and that unlike Triss and Yenn, your powers were more adrenaline based. Chaos drove you a little harder than it did other members of the Lodge. “I may have suggested we take out a group of bandits last night. It was not a big deal. They barely put up a fight.”

Geralt’s eyes gleamed with what was left unsaid. That the fight had depleted your magic stores, and that had you been alone, you wouldn’t have survived. You had to look away from him, otherwise the worry that you had fought off last night would creep in again, and that was the last thing you needed before heading out into the wilds with the Witcher. You spent the short ride to Novigrad testing your magic, and you could barely create a spark at this point.

“Is Dandelion here?” You changed the subject, concentrating on Zoltan.

“I wish I had better news.” Zoltan said the words you and Geralt were dreading to hear. Geralt stood up straight, all relaxation leaving his body. You took a deep breath, torn between fear for your friend and frustration that he kept getting into these situations. “He went and got himself into some trouble with the King of Beggars.”

“How did he manage that?” You were shocked. From your time in the city, you always knew Francis Bedlam to be generally fair in all his dealings. He had offered the mages in Novigrad a place to hide when the witch hunters were on the prowl, and his vast network of spies had come in handy for a fair price.

“The way Dandelion explains it, it was a case of mistaken identity.” Zoltan rolled his eyes. After years of playing songs about the Witcher, those who were close to the bard knew he had a tendency to twist tales to be in his favour. “He was defending Priscilla’s honour, and the bloke he was defending it to wound up dead in the alley behind the tavern where the altercation took place. Now Bedlam has him locked up in the Putrid Grove until the “real” murderer can be found. The way I understand it, the bloke was one of Bedlam’s top spies.”

“Looks like, once again, I show up at the right time. We need to head to the Grove.” Geralt sighed, heading for the door. He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at you. “Unless you want to stay here with Zoltan and be regaled with stories of Gwent matches.”

“I should probably come with you. I’ve had plenty of dealings with Bedlam, and he likes me.” You patted Zoltan’s shoulder, pausing before passing him. “But when I return, I would love to play a few rounds of Gwent with you. I’ve really built up my deck since we last played.”

“Aye, lass, I will hold you to that!” Zoltan seemed in mildly better spirits when you left the Chameleon.

“He likes you?” Geralt questioned as you stepped out onto the street to join him. He had his arms crossed, and when you looked closer, his nostrils were flared. It took you a moment to realize he was talking about Francis Bedlam and not Zoltan.

“Geralt, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you were jealous.” You smirked, taking the lead on the way to the Putrid Grove in the Lacehalls district. It wasn’t far, but it was easy to miss if you didn’t know what you were looking for, and harder to get into if you didn’t know the password. You hoped that they would just recognize your face and let you in, otherwise you would be hunting for a beggar to get the password. Not the easiest of tasks, as most of the time they just took the money and claimed ignorance about the Grove.

“Didn’t you hear? Witchers don’t have feelings.” Geralt joked as he followed you.

He stayed a several paces behind you the whole way to the wooden door leading to the Putrid Grove, but always kept you in sight. It would be better if a Witcher and a Sorceress weren’t seen together trying to find the King of Beggars’ den. You shook your hair out of the tight bun it had been in for travelling, trying to look more like what you did when you lived in Novigrad. Geralt growled low, eyeing you, before he knocked hard with his fist on the door.

The slot opened, and two eyes stared out at both of you. You watched the eyes flick over you and Geralt as recognition set in. The slot slid closed, and the door flew opened.

“Younin! Welcome back!” A mountain of a man scooped you up in a bear hug as soon as you stepped through the door. You patted his shoulder affectionately, a gesture not lost on Geralt who was suddenly on high alert.

“Thank you, Roger. It’s always good to see you.” You said when the man finally lowered you. You reached back to touch Geralt’s arm, hoping to silently reassure him, without giving away that you two were on friendlier terms than what was previously thought. “I’m sure you remember Geralt of Rivia.”

“Aye. It’s hard to forget a Witcher. Especially one as famous as you are.” Roger turned to Geralt, a friendly smile on his face. He offered Geralt his hand, and the Witcher shook it after a brief hesitation. “We’ve also been expecting you since we have your friend locked up.”

“Would it be possible to get an audience with Francis this morning? I know it’s early, but gossip flies at all hours of the day, so he must be awake.” You plastered on the friendliest look you could. “Also, I am sure the King would love to know who actually killed his man.”

“You got that right.” The King of Beggars stepped around the corner. You looked at him in surprise, not thinking he would meet you at the gate. Usually, you had to go to him, not the other way around. “I heard Roger’s excitement clear across the Grove and figured I should investigate.”

“Francis.” Your voice came out a little warmer than you intended given the man you were travelling with. You felt Geralt shift closer, a certain possessiveness rolling off him. “It’s always good to see you, unfortunate the reason though.”

“Indeed.” The King of Beggars looked between you and the Witcher thoughtfully before his eyes landed fully on Geralt. “But we do have a few leads if you want to follow up with them. I can have Roger write them down for you.”

“What about—” You started to ask, your worry for Dandelion overpowering your need to be polite.

“Your friend is being well taken care of I assure you.” Francis turned to you, a flirtatious smile on his face. You felt a blush paint your cheek bones suddenly. You had forgotten what it was like to have his sights set on you, and the charm he could suddenly turn on. “However, if the lady wishes to see for herself, I cannot deny her.”

“I think we will.” Geralt interjected. You hide your smile behind a hand, pretending to yawn. It was amusing to see him so worked up over a few looks. Francis Bedlam didn’t seem phased by Geralt’s reaction, and turned to lead you to where the Dandelion was being kept.

“Geralt!” Dandelion called out around a mouth full of bread. The breakfast sitting in front of him was better than most, and the room he was kept in was clean and warm. “And you brought Younin!”

“Hello Dandelion. I see you got yourself into some trouble again.” You sat across from, picking up a slice of apple from his plate.

“I wouldn’t be a proper Bard if I didn’t find myself in some sort of trouble every now and then.” Dandelion wiped his hands on his tunic before reaching across the table to grasp both of yours dramatically. “But you must believe me! I would never murder anyone. Ask Geralt, I don’t have it in me to do such a thing.”

“The sight of blood does make you nervous.” Geralt took a seat beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. Dandelion noticed how close you two were sitting, leaning back in his chair with a smug look. “I knew all that talk about following the Path and needing no one was false. You scoundrel. You better treat her right.”

“Unlike you, I actually would kill for her.” Geralt lowered his voice so that Bedlam’s men stationed outside the door wouldn’t hear. Your stomach flipped at his admission, having never heard him speak so confidently about his feelings for you before.

“I would gladly cross swords with any who threaten my Priscilla.” Dandelion stood up grandly sweeping out his arms. Luckily Geralt had the sense to reach across the table and yank back into his seat. “But I swear this was barely an insult, and all we did was cross words. I did not kill him.”

“Listen, I don’t care what happened. I care where it happened.” Geralt cut Dandelion off before the Bard could continue. “I need to examine the alley, and the longer it takes to get there, the more the evidence is contaminated.”

Dandelion told you as much as he knew, and the rest you got from Roger and the King of Beggars. Geralt seemed to breath a sigh relief once you were out of the Putrid Grove and away from Francis and his smiles. You watched as he shifted into Witcher mode, heading out to find clues about the murder, hoping there was still enough there to go on.

[musamulta-aa]

Portrait of the Hierarch

Jaskier does hang the portrait of Hierarch Hemmelfart in The Chameleon. He hates the damn thing, he hates the man it’s of, but it keeps it. It stops mage hunters from pushing him too hard if they believe he’s one of the faithful.

[kaedwenistout]

Ia’s curse is... a really complex subject to talk about. It’s a blood malediction passed down through her mother’s line, which started with Ia’s maternal great-grandfather and reappeared in her. Any other details of the curse are a mystery to her until her post-TW3 verse, but I’ll just put them here for context. 12 paragraphs of general info are under the cut, you have been warned.

Origins

The curse is actually, despite Ia’s own feelings towards it, a gift. In its original form, it was a divine blessing bestowed by a mysterious and still-unknown moon goddess upon Ia’s elven lineage many centuries before she was born. It isn’t well known, and there isn’t even a name for it. Oftentimes, Ia will mention “poisoned blood” in reference to her brothers and sisters(carriers), which will be mentioned later.

The curse is genetic, meaning it can be passed down from parent to child. Whether one is affected or a carrier, though, is up to chance. It doesn’t take two carriers to create an affected person, and it could easily just be based on luck. Affected people often seem to crop up out of nowhere. However, there has been no research on it, and this information comes from stories of members of the bloodline throughout the ages, not from scientists or mages.

Effects

Biologically, it effects the bearer in relatively minor ways - namely it gives them bright silver eyes and, in Ia’s case, much stronger elven features than she should have had with two human-passing parents. It also gives the bearer extraordinary magical power, though that isn’t universal and each affected person is different. This power, borne by both Ia and her elven great-grandfather, Achlys, holds sway over life and death and allows them to walk between two worlds, to peel away the veil and see beyond it.

On full and new moons, this power is amplified a hundred times or more - along with visual changes to the affected person’s body, which differ from person to person. Some even have the power of resurrection, though this ability is incredibly rare and circumstantial, and has been expressed only three times in almost a thousand years. Using any degree of the curse’s power takes years to master, however, and many with the ability never live up to their full potential. 

However, every blessing has its downside, and Ia’s curse is no exception. The curse is extremely dangerous. It can cause emotional outbursts and instability, violent or self-destructive tendencies, and many unpleasant physical side effects. Carriers will oftentimes die before they reach forty, from what healers would say is “poisoned blood”, though the true cause is unknown. By its very nature the curse inflicts pain and grief upon those affected, and they are often plagued by death throughout their lives. Restless spirits will always torment them - it’s really no wonder why half go mad.

Those that survive with their sanity and health intact have a hard path ahead. Needless to say, the curse inflicts severe trauma on its bearers, which Ia can attest to. Many of those affected suffer from bouts of melancholy, hallucinations, and psychotic episodes, which can affect their lives to such a degree that they can no longer function as they normally would. These symptoms come and go and can vary in severity, but are exacerbated during the full moon and at places which have seen death and suffering, like for example witchers’ keeps, prisons, and battlefields.

Ia

Ia possesses a rare and exceptionally powerful form of the curse. Luckily she’s better than most at dealing with it, and has only killed one person so far during what she calls “blackouts”, or uncontrollable outbursts of magic and emotion. Managing her curse is a full-time job for her, and it consumes a great deal of her time - learning to suppress her symptoms using outside means and hiding as well as she can, trying to appear as normal as possible.

She’s able to see and hear spirits while the moon is visible, particularly during the full moons when she undergoes the transformation into her moonwraith form; so called because it resembles a wraith very closely, though not nearly as monstrous. Visually, her moonwraith form resembles a day old corpse - colorless, ice-cold skin and glassy, pupil-less eyes, with a few notable features including the presence of fog and occasional floating. Like lycanthropy, this transformation is uncontrollable, and during the height of the moon she has to find a way to hide it.

During the new moon, hiding is much easier. For all intents and purposes she resembles her normal self - the only exception being big, black eyes. The difference there is her enhanced speed, deadly strength, and her ability to disappear into the shadows as if she had never existed to begin with. It makes assassination much easier, and she’s used these abilities to deadly efficacy many times. Notable murders she’s committed on new moons include Hierarch Hemmelfart and an entire Kaedweni army regiment.

Nocturnal and crepuscular animals also flock to Ia, and she does technically have the power to control them - though she doesn’t know this, and when she figures it out, chooses not to use the ability. She’s bonded very closely with the little ugly creatures of the night, especially opossums and moths. Often, a flock of nightjars will follow her when she travels and she can be seen letting them perch on her and eat from her hand.

As aforementioned, Ia views her curse as an unfortunate reality of her life. She’s never really wished it gone because she’s never known life without it. It’s left her with severe trauma and was the root cause of most of the suffering in her life, but despite all that, she knows it will never be “cured” and has accepted living with it. To her, it’s just another ugly scar to hide.