#nilfgaardian scum

[cahir-and-ciri-dyffryn]

Bart Edwards is an absolute treasure 🥹😍

Posted by Mahesh Jadu

[d-aisanokensha]

◉ + witcher au ( allegiance hc )

Put a symbol in my ask box, and I’ll give you a headcanon.

- originally hails from skellige / ard skellig which makes him an islander- clan of an craite, however he doesn’t have a claim to the throne due to his witcher status - THAT RED / BLACK COLOR SCHEME- mind u his clan mainly consists of alcoholics- there’s little… political engagement but he shares their beliefs and seems to unanimously target the nilfgaardian empire every time they raise hell

[vic-of-thor]

Witcher moments (57) - Ciri’s torture

- You probably already know what you’re in for, wench, he said softly. You probably already know who Leo Bonhart is. You probably already know what Leo Bonhart is capable of. What excites him. You’ll be shoved out into the arena to kill for the amusement of the swine and scum in here. And even worse than them. And when the fact that you can kill stops amusing them, when Bonhart tires of doing violence to you, then he will kill you. He will send so many into the arena that you won’t be able to cover your back. Or they’ll set dogs on you. The dogs will tear you apart, the mob will smell blood and applaud and you will bleed out on the dirty sand. Just as you have done to these ones today. You’ll remember my words.

Strangely, only now did she notice the little pin on his enameled collar.

A silver unicorn rampant on a black field.

A unicorn.

Ciri lowered her head. She looked at the sword blade.

Suddenly, everything became very quiet.

- By the Great Sun, Declan Ros aep Maelchlad, the Nilfgaardian Captain of the Reserve, abruptly began. No. Do not do that, girl. Ne tuv'en que'ss, Luned

Ciri slowly turned Swallow around in her hand, resting the pommel on the sand. She went down on one knee. With her right hand holding the blade, the tip was aimed precisely under her breastbone. The blade cut through her clothing and pricked her at once.

- Just do not start to cry, thought Ciri as she pressed more strongly against the sword. Just do not cry, there's nothing I would need or want to cry about. One quick thrust and it will all be over...it will all be over.

- You won’t do it. Bonhart’s voice was heard in the perfect silence. You cannot do it, witcher girl. In Kaer Morhen, you were taught how to kill, so you kill like a machine. Instinctively. To kill yourself you need character, strength, determination and courage. And they couldn’t teach you that.

Andrzej Sapkowski - The tower of the swallow

These moments still send shivers down my spine. Bonhart is a diabolical monster.

[woodlandelk]

Drakenborg

They had promised fair trials, imprisonment in dignity and a painless and quick execution, like any Nilfgaardian officer would have deserved. Taken alone the transport on the barge, there was not the slightest trace of dignity for the elves: Sore wrists and ankles from their chains, barely enough food and water, beaten and tortured already on the way to their destination.

They weren’t treated like normal prisoners of war, like the high ranked officers they had been. They were treated like bandits, elven scum. Iorveth tried to withstand all this, and he was proud that despite all the pain and humiliation every single of his comrades held his head up high in pride. They all knew what they had fought for, and they knew their sisters and brother would continue this fight.

The last days of their journey, the elves sat penned up on a carriage, exposed to rain and wind. None of them lowered their guard and asked for a blanket. Stoically the elves faced their fate.

Just when they saw the Drakenborg for the first time, how the stronghold raised into the sky on the side of a craggy mountain, just a steep path leading to the huge iron gate, a shiver ran down their spine. The stronghold was said to be impregnable and there was no chance to escape its prison. One site stuck to the cliff of the mountain, and on two side’s escarpments covered by thick thorny bushes that created impervious barriers. Not telling about the four watch towers, guarded with crossbowmen day and night.

The view alone extinguished any hope that might had been left in the elves hearts. The Drakenborg was the final destination, all that waited there was death. What truly awaited them inside were all myths and rumours, because no prisoner ever made it out alive.

As long as the Drakenborg had been under the command of Istvan Igalffy and Sigismund Dijsktra, the death row had been a surprisingly joyful place. The inmates shared one large cell, got enough food and even the very sour and diluted wine, called Dijsktra dry. Once they had survived the interrogation and torture, the prisoners lived the rest of their short lives unharmed.

But when the elves arrived, Istvan Igalffy had been hanged and Sigismund Dijsktra was on the run after he had survived an assassination. People said he had rummaged too deep in other people’s secrets. Vascoigne, the new commander of the Drakenborg, was a cruel and bloodthirsty monster. And he hated elves.

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