quest log | wilder training

[faileas]

Who: Those who signed up for the High-Risk Quest "Wilder Training"
When: 08/09 to 08/12
Where: A camp on the south-western edge of the Wilde.
What: From the quest information itself: "Outside of the recruitment, the Wilders are also offering training for anyone who'd like it regardless of bonds and experience. They'll be taken into a safe, slightly infected area in order to hone skills of magic (both Witch and Monster based), how to handle different weapons available, have lectures on things to look for in the field, and finally a test to see what they've learned. No notes allowed."
Warnings: None in the log post itself; if anything comes up, let us know, and we'll make sure to add it here.

The Way There

The training camp party gathers just outside of the city's walls before the sun begins to rise; once heads are counted and everyone is accounted for, Yvette Tressa - the same Witch who led the expedition into Smugha Cave - will start the march through Dead Man's Land, following the river. It isn't quite dark at this period of dawn, the bare landscape painted a washed-out blue by what small light there is, and as the sun settles into the early morning sky they reach their first destination - the edge of the Wilde. Rowboats large enough to fit five or six people (or a few significantly larger people) bob gently up and down where they're tied, the runes marking around the area marking it as protected by a barrier; keen eyes will notice these are the same as what the Wilders and the Coven have been setting up around Smugha Cave.

The party is herded into the boats and sent up the river into the Wilde, the boats gently rowing themselves against the current. The trees of the Wilde have slowly, almost imperceptibly, been shifting to a new color as summer turns into fall outside of it: browner and fully dead, with fewer leaves hanging from their branches, as if winter has finally come. The air is also significantly cooler the deeper they row into up the river, the breeze a sharp string of cold when it blows, and several Wilders shiver despite their being used to it. The journey is a quiet one, the river ducking out of the Wilde when the sun is at its highest point - the area is changed from the familiar fields around Aefenglom around this small bend, with dozens of flowers waving their faint scent in the still chilly breeze. No two flowers look the same, but the boat ride doesn't stop there: it continues back into the Wilde, leaving the sweet smell behind them.

The sun is still visible where they dock, noting it as a little later in the afternoon; further ahead, the river splits two ways, and it's to the left side the party will be guided. As they come upon the split's left side, the trees begin to thin in a way similar to the area around Smugha Cave, their branches cleaned up and the start of infection scraped from their sides - and then abrupt barrenness as it becomes clear just what the trees now suddenly missing have been used for: A fortified camp, well-protected by its high, sturdy wooden walls, the tops of them sharpened to a point. As the party draws closer, runes of protection are easy to notice, carved line after line in the thick, wood logs.

Training Camp: Sauf

Located on the edge of the Wilde (the red dot; the navy dot is Smugha Cave, for a point of reference), Sauf is a fairly large camp equipped with all of the basic necessities. Used year-round for various training exercises, Sauf is home to around twenty "permanent" residents - that is, those who have volunteered to stay the year - and otherwise hosts trainees, instructors, researchers, and so on. Look-outs are positioned all around the camp's edge, manned by at least one pair of Wilders, and a large communal fire pit sits in the middle of the camp. The main entrance is on the south side, with smaller ones located on the other three sides.

The north side of the camp is where characters will find their living quarters for their weekend stay: large, sturdy tents designed to hold several dozen people comfortably. Given the Wilde's chill, these are kept toasty and warm through the use of small piles of heat stones similar to the larger ones found in the city during the snow last month. Also on the north side is the mess hall, where characters can get some grub or hang out and mingle with their fellow trainees, mirrorbound and native alike.

The east and west sides of the camp are where the training takes place. Each side has a different function, however: the east side is for more individual-based training, with dummies and moving targets, both magically-repairing, and instructors, while the west side is for arena-based training - that is, fighting one another. Any type of match-up is considered fair and reasonable, and fights go on intermittently over the days, as does betting.

Finally, the south side of the camp is home to the meeting hall, a large stone building; while not currently in use, it remains an important fixture nonetheless. The healer's wards are also located here as two tarped areas that hug both walls, which provides medical help for those coming in or who have been injured during training, and protection for those venturing out.

I. A Primer On Witches


In addition to weapons training - which, specific to Witches, comes in the form of long-reach weaponry such as lances, quarterstaffs, or halberds - they offer instruction in spells that come in handy while needing to defend oneself and others in the Wilde.

• Abjuration 1: Barriers, shields, alarms.
• Abjuration 2: Healing (both lower level and advanced courses), dispels.
• Alchemy 1: Potion-brewing for healing draughts, magic draughts, potions that can cure basic ailments (poison, paralysis, sleep).
• Alchemy 2: Arrays to create on-the-go bombs (palm-sized) of the offensive and smoke varieties, weapons of various types, all from materials able to be found around and on oneself.
• Conjuration 1: Temporary camps (tents and campfires), various magical weapons, food and water (not very filling nor hydrating, essentially as a just-in-case thing).
• Conjuration 2: Living creatures such as animals and insects, a variety from the harmless/watcher-type to more offensively-based ones.
• Divination 1: Scrying on the fly using pocket mirrors, running water as a medium, speaking with animals (sometimes not extremely helpful given their lower intelligence).
• Divination 2: Finding magic via a scavenger hunt, how to enter a dream-like trance to access the subconscious and interpretation of signs found there.
• Enchantment 1: Charm spells that work against either humanoids, Monsters, or animals, which make the target more friendly or a straight-up ally; some target will know they've been charmed.
• Enchantment 2: Strengthening spells such as for physical, mental, or magical power, as well as elemental imbuing for weapons and other objects.
• Evocation 1: Single-target elemental spells and how to control them, particularly fire and ice for the latter, with elements also including earth/stone, water, lightning, and wind.
• Evocation 2: Multiple-target elemental spells with the same instruction and types as above, as well as multiple-target healing spells.
• Illusion 1: Visual illusions (people, animals, items), larger illusions (areas, buildings, bigger varities of aforementioned types).
• Illusion 2: Audio illusions, how to tie them together with visual illusions.
• Transmutation 1: Transforming oneself or one's items and back again, as well as mending minor objects.
• Transmutation 2: Transforming other people or other people's items and back again, as well as how to do it sneakily.

II. A Primer On Monsters


In addition to weapons training - which, specific to Monsters, comes in the form of short-reach weaponry such as swords and axes - they offer instruction in the special traits and perks each Monster has, particularly ones that come in handy when defending oneself or others in the Wilde.

• Arachne: Speed/jumps and web-spinning, either as traps or in use as rope, whip, etc.
• Chimera: Fighting blind and/or deaf to avoid charms, illusions, and curses.
• Dragon: Breath abilities, both how to use them and the finer points of control.
• Fae: Creating illusions and seeing through them, with a heavy focus on landscape and areas rather than creatures or objects.
• Faun: Plant growth, with a focus on naturally revitalizing plants and ones with more offensive uses, such as bomb-nuts and carnivorous flowers.
• Harpy: Singing lessons, as well as flying lessons with the use of wind magic should one have it.
• Merrow: Water magic, with an experimental focus on purifying it for drinking or bathing purposes.
• Naga: Speaking to water and empathizing with it, as well as instruction on the proper and ethical usage of hypnosis.
• Puca: Impersonation practice, with shapeshifting into someone they know or see and mimicking their voice and way of speaking.
• Turnskin: Sense training, particularly smell and hearing, with the use of blindfolds.
• Vampire: Casting thralls, and proper measures to take against the sun.

III. Partnering Up


Skills and spells are both useful while out in the Wilde, but one's biggest asset is their partner - or partners, plural. The Wilders will pick at random two or three people to partner up and do a variety of things in order to build trust and clear communication, such as your ordinary trust-falls or a game of telephone, as well as things that might be a little more on the side of seeing just how far they can go: clothes-switching (you don't know a man - or Monster - until you've walked a mile in their shoes), taking care of an inanimate object together, and being connected to one another for several hours, courtesy of some enchanted pair bracelets that won't allow their wearers to move more than a foot from the other half of their pair.

Outside of that, they'll be offering up the opportunity for those without Bonds to try temporarily Bonding to whoever their eyes land on first (with a quick, non-ceremonial shot of silver liquid), as well as fighting together against other pairs or tamed beasts (with or without the Bond) in the arenas.
IV. A Little Exploration


On the final day of the weekend training excursion, everyone is once again gathered - this time for the test promised to them. It isn't a pen and paper test, however, but one to test how well they've retained the training offered to them. In the early morning, the group will set out north-west of the camp; the path begins well-trod, but overgrowth soon begins to get underfoot. Patches of frost begin to show up as well - perhaps it's the Wilde's odd season at work.

Or perhaps it's something else.

Entire trees are encased in ice, their branches looking like arms reaching out or twisted around themselves; the bark resembles faces, with hair curled to their chins, and while some may have the sinking feeling that appearances might not just be appearances, the humanoids frozen mid-stepping from similarly frosted trees may all but confirm it.

Dryads, frozen in time, the Cwyld dark and trapped beneath the ice - or maybe those are remnants of the fire that was an attempt at culling the infection before it could begin. Some of them are cracked and broken, their limbs lost, while others are perfectly preserved.

There won't be too much time to stop and stare, however; this is a test, and the enemies of the day become apparent:


• Ice wolves. With a chilly bite and a tendency to work in pairs and groups, it's worth doing just the same to take them down. Their paws are black and crusted with mud and Cwyld infection, their eyes bright and unseeing - and though they may be blind, the rest of their senses have become even stronger in response.
• Snow elementals. Large and actually made of a mix of ice and snow, their patches of Cwyld streak across their white bodies - it makes them easy to see in all the white, but gives them some resistance to the traditional use of fire to melt them. They primarily rely on ice spikes and other related magics, ut will throw a heavy punch if gotten too close to.
• Withered ents. Ordinarily peaceful, these normally massive moving trees are as tall as a one-story house due to hunching over from the cold and ice that covers them. Similar to the wolves, their large, gnarled hands are covered in the black of the Cwyld, but only one eye is the blind white that marks infection - the other is hollow and sunken in. Roots and heavy earth shakes are their primary skills, being otherwise slow to move, and they avoid fighting where there are dryads.
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Comments

Lambert | OTA!

[whattaprick]

1. a primer on monsters

[ On rounding a corner of the tents, or some other part of camp, one might suddenly find themselves running into a copy of themselves. It isn't a perfect duplicate by any means -- the nose might be a bit too big, identifying features either missing or on the wrong side of the body, some details on the clothing obscured -- but it's startlingly close. ]

Well? [ The doppelganger asks, the slightly nasal man's voice that comes out distinctly at odds with its current appearance. It places a hand on its cocked hip, pursing its lip and batting its eyes. ] How do I look, gorgeous?

2. partners

After having experienced the 'joy's of bonding in a dream, Lambert's in no hurry to pop any of those silvery potions himself. Instead, those saddled with the witcher for a partner will have to contend with:

a. Lambert looking terrifyingly maternal as he delicately balances what's easily got to be a fifty-pound sack of flour or beans or something on his hip, already swaddled up in a blanket with two dark voids for eyes painted on. He grins horribly at his fellow trainee, cooing:

"Aw, I think it's got your eyes. Wanna see?" Whereupon he'll promptly attempt to foist the fat-ass fake baby on his partner.

b. The witcher straightening as soon as the bracelets lock on their wrists and yank them to within a foot of each other, lifting his arm to better inspect the arrangement.

"Hmm. Now this is gonna make pissing awkward."

3. exploration

[ Those who happen to be striding next to Lambert will notice the witcher looking distinctly sour as the wind bites into his skin. Close enough, and you might hear him muttering under his breath: ]

If I'd known they were going to take us out here to freeze our tits off, I would've stayed in the city.

[ But finally, they get to their destination, and it's a real fight -- something that makes all the hanging out in this blasted cold worth it. Lambert doesn't spare much of a glance to the frozen, humanoid trees, already unslinging his steel sword from his back. Despite the twinge it leaves in his fingers, it's still not so bad that he can't fight, spinning out almost elegantly to slash down at the nearest monster, shouting 'encouragement' at whoever's nearest. ]

Wake up, slowass! Playtime's over!

4. wildcard

[ Bring your own prompts, etc! I'll match my style to yours! ]

3ish

[niespodzianka]

[ The unsettling, solid sound of an elemental head crashing to the snow-covered ground doesn't travel far through the scattered tress - thud, and it stares up at Geralt, empty, infected eyes pleading or screaming or both.

Hmph. ]

You lose your turnip bag baby?

[ Geralt has been remarkably polite, not giving Lambert shit about monster training. (He's saving it up. Like a bitch.) It feels normal out here; like they're clearing an area near the keep out so that their crumbling castle walls aren't harassed by every beast looking for warmth. ]

[whattaprick]

Too late, we already cannibalized it. [ Lambert says over his shoulder, already automatically circling around to check the perimeter and see what else might be attracted to the fuss. ]

For breakfast, actually. Lambert Junior’s probably already sitting in your stomach.

[niespodzianka]

[ Geralt flexes his offhand, distantly frustrated at his inability to get the native magic to work like he wants it to. A pragmatic whisper in the back of his head (it sounds an awful lot like Yennefer) tells him to just embrace what he's supposed to be doing, but he kicks it into the abyss. He doesn't need any of this elaborate shit. ]

You know, I've come across that particular fetish before.

[ You weirdo. ]

[whattaprick]

So that’s why you dumped Merigold, is it? Redheads really are into the kinkiest shit.

[ There’s a whistling sound in the air, to the left, and Lambert instinctively rolls to the left, an ice spike slamming into the ground inches from where he was standing. If he hadn’t moved, it would have plunged right through his gut. ]

[niespodzianka]

[ Geralt only shifts his shoulder to avoid any recoil from the elemental's reach, and darts back to go after it. It looks counter-intuitive, shoving right up close and personal with such a creature, but that's just how witcher combat goes. Much more of a pain in the ass with his signs handicapped and the added pressure to not get tagged at all, but they've all dealt with worse odds.

The flying shards of ice become a non-issue when he's so close to the body of the elemental. It twists its massive form, brittle, heavy limbs aiming to mow him down, and it collides in a neon flash of shattered magic as a would-be shield explodes. Horribly imperfect - Vesemir would be disgusted - but it does the job and buffers Geralt for a moment before he jams his blade past the frozen exoskeleton and into its core.

When he yanks it back out it stumbles, not quite dead yet but getting there, staggering forward like a boulder being flung. ]

What's your problem with me and Triss? How do you still have shit to say about it in another world?

[whattaprick]

Oh, is it a problem? I thought I was just making conversation. You know, catching up.

[ It's because it always gets a rise out of Geralt, that's why. Lambert's never going to quit until that stops. As the elemental stumbles backwards, Lambert lunges forward, seeking another chink between the chunks of ice to plunge his own sword into its back with a running leap that sends the elemental keeling over completely. The angle of the impact swerves it away from Geralt and onto its side, Lambert wrenching his sword free of its body as he pushes off it with his feet and jumps away again.

(Is he leaping farther and harder than he normally might? Perhaps, or maybe that's just adrenaline and the spryness of recent training. It feels good to be able to test himself like this -- magic was only ever so much of what a witcher could do.) ]

Or maybe I'm just trying to inspire you. Piss off with that weak shit and call down a firestorm already!

[niespodzianka]

[ Geralt rolls his eyes. Why is it always like this with Lambert? Forcing Geralt to treat him like an idiot who doesn't know what he's saying, or call him out on his prodding. Either way, it's an argument. ]

Gee, it's almost like you're projecting something, [ he says in a deadpan drawl. Firestorm. Thinking about Triss, still. (Or maybe that's just Geralt, now that the subject's been brought up. Lambert's behind him in their fucked up time travel, isn't he?)

The elemental is toast. It didn't stand a chance between two witchers, magic or no magic. He stalks near it to make sure it's not getting back up, and to try and get a read on what the infection smells like outside of dreamland. ]

[whattaprick]

[ That’s the kind of nonsequitur that just makes Lambert shrug, figuring there isn’t really a response to that that’s going to get a better reaction than what he’s already managed to prod out of him. He’ll join the other witcher in inspecting the creature, but... ]

I miss having dimeritium bombs. [ He says, idly. He wipes his sword off — gingerly, since even through his gloves, the iron in the metal causes discomfort — and sheathes it in a smooth motion, flicking his hand out to rid his fingers of the tingling afterwards. ] Not that we know for sure if they’d work here, but they’d be handy.

[niespodzianka]

[ At least it shuts Lambert up. Geralt's sure the younger witcher would spontaneously combust if anyone tried to psychoanalyze him. ]

There's probably something here that works in a similar way. I'll have to dig through their alchemy rules.

[ Rules, of course, meaning the limits of magical physics, and not actual laws and regulations; he's seen those, a bit. No necromancy. Pretty standard. ]

You really can't get any signs to respond?

[whattaprick]

[ Unsurprisingly, the younger witcher’s expression is withering ... as is his voice. ]

No, I suddenly decided to stop using any of the shit that I’ve been using for decades because I felt like handicapping myself. No reason.

[ And then half a heartbeat later, Lambert’s gone and a copy of Geralt is standing next to the downed elemental, voice a pitch-perfect match as he continues: ]

Learned to do this, though. Good trick, right?

[niespodzianka]

[ Look, Geralt doesn't know his life. Maybe he's got performance anxiety.

And then. ]

Ugh.

[ He pulls a face, recoiling. ] You with a doppler's ability is fucking weird. Knock that off.

[whattaprick]

[ Geralt's just lucky Lambert's ability doesn't come with a doppler's ability to mimic the mind of its original, too, though it does mean he has to put up with seeing himself purse his lips consideringly, batting his eyelashes outrageously at the other witcher. ]

What, you don't like it?

a primer on monsters

[atouts]

[ Considering he already has a fairly big nose, Lambert's own take on it is definitely twice as beaky, although Childermass is actually too startled to immediately critique the attempt on turning a corner and running into, well, himself. He takes a step back, surprise written plain across an typically indifferent face. ]

You're— [ Not him at all but what the hell? What is this? ] What do you think you're doing? Stop being me this instant.

[whattaprick]

Stop being me this instant. [ Not-Childermass says, mimicking his voice back at him, sounding much more like the magician than he did a minute ago. He shifts stances to mirror the magician, the illusion altering and shifting as he does so; now the nose is less beaky, but the moustache is all wrong, long enough for the ends to curl past his chin. The imposter seems to realize as much, because his hand goes up to touch it, twirling the loose end around one finger. ]

Hmm, now I don't know how I feel about this.

[atouts]

[ Good lord, of course it's an illusion. Some witch or monster is just messing around, meaning he likely can't haul off and punch whoever this is... ]

Badly. [ Childermass provides. He is not liking that look at all. ] Is this really necessary? You could be imitating the actual instructors instead of whoever you just happen to run into.

[whattaprick]

Already tried. [ Childermass’s doppelganger answers cheerfully.] They begged me to go off and bother someone else.

[ Begged might be an exaggeration, but... most disturbingly, the features start to sag and distort, making Childermass’s face look like it’s melting right off... ]

[atouts]

[ Great, that's going to cause nightmares. Chidermass takes a step back when his face — on whoever this is, anyway — begins drooping out of proportion. Watching his eyes drift down his face is not something he has ever wanted to see, so thanks for that, Lambert. ]

Good God, man, at least pull yourself together if you're going to practice at being other people. Your illusion is becoming a puddle of skin!

[whattaprick]

Damn, already? Guess that means time's up.

[ He feels at his face, but it's no use, and his grip on the illusion was becoming fragile, anyway. So Lambert releases it with a sigh -- one minute a disfigured magician, himself the next, rubbing at his jowls consideringly. He's dressed in attire more appropriate to the training exercises they're undergoing here, a sword on his back, and there's a distinct lack of drooping flesh on him as he looks himself over. ]

Well, at least I know it lasts longer with someone I already know.

[atouts]

[ So that's who it is. ]

You again... [ Childermass looks, as always, less than amused, and now that he knows who it is, he does feel free to step forward and give Lambert a shove to the shoulder. ] Will you stop turning up around me? I don't even know who you are and yet you seem to appear around every corner to pester me!

[ Even if one assumes they managed the mini jacks dilemma somewhat as a team, it doesn't change that it almost feels intentional. ]

[whattaprick]

[ That outburst is just going to get Lambert raising his brows. Since Childermass is using physical force and not magical, though, shoving is going to avail him very little against the witcher's muscle -- that is to say, he doesn't budge an inch. ]

Hey now, I could say the same of you. [ His hand snaps up, catching Childermass by the wrist and tugging him close so he can leer at him threateningly, which is much easier to do when he's not feeling the hum of someone else's emotions at the back of his own mind. ]

Who's to say you're not the one following me, witch boy? Not that I'm not flattered, but you're not really my type.

[atouts]

[ Childermass supposes he shouldn't be surprised that the man's harder to shove away without magic, although even if he'd had that same spell, he's not like to turn it on someone just for poorly imitating him. Even so, he'll glower and try to wrench his wrist out of Lambert's grasp. ]

I'm not the one skulking around under a disguise, so, no, it really is only you.

[whattaprick]

[ The mocking smile only spreads wider at the struggle, a glimmer of amusement in yellow eyes as Lambert hangs on, more for the sake of being a jerk than anything else. ]

Like I said — just testing what the instructors told me to do. You didn’t seem like the outdoors type, so you’re the last person I expected to see around here. Hunting monsters, going camping ... keep it up and you’ll be practically halfway to being a witcher.

[ It’s a joke he knows Childermass won’t get, so he chuckles and lets him go at that, rocking his weight back on his heels as he hooks his thumbs into his belt. ]

Well, thanks for the practice. Guess I’ll see you around.

[atouts]

[ When it's apparent he won't be letting go (again, if he recalls correctly), Childermass just stops trying to yank his wrist free. Irritating but suddenly not worth the effort. ]

I don' t know what that is. [ He's sure Lambert already knows that, though, but he points it out anyway and brings his arm back in close as he does actually let his wrist go. ] And I don't know what you think I am, but it hardly takes a fancy title to want to step outside of those walls.

[ If it even is fancy. Hunting monsters, going camping, those clues alone kind of points to 'person who hunts monsters' but is it a mercenary profession? A religious order? A sort of knight? Well, probably not that. Lambert hardly seems the type. Not like he's sticking around to explain, either, so he just shakes his head and takes the 'see you around' as the end of it, already turning to leave. ]

[whattaprick]

Oh, there’s nothing fancy about it. [ Lambert laughs, giving the magician a lazy wave over his shoulder, then pausing to twist around, like the thought’s just occurred to him. With the magician eager to leave, he’s not inclined to keep him, but the offer comes easily enough to his lips, calling it after Childermass with no real expectation he’ll take him up on it. ]

But if you ever need a sword by you the next time you wanna head out of the city, look up Lambert at the Sly Seadog. [ His mouth twists into a playful smirk. ] Or come by and I’ll buy you a drink. Either way.