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

[tryhard]

If Waver hadn't witnessed him just saving his very frosty bacon, he might have been a little more alarmed by the strange man's harsh appearance. By now, he's seen many different kinds of Monsters here, not to mention the horrors he'd witnessed before, but those yellow eyes still give him a little jolt-- more for the hard stare fixed on him and the perceived accusation in it than the color, at this point.

He'd fucked up. Gotten in over his head, put his life unnecessarily in danger, and possibly this man's as well. Waver shrinks back a little, feeling foolish and guilty, and cradling his stinging arms against his chest.

"I-- A- a little... Mostly, the ice scraped me..."

The sleeves covering his forearms are torn in several places, hints of blood beneath, but it's difficult to tell how bad it is. It doesn't feel that bad. With an infected creature, though, the size of the wound might mean little.

[niespodzianka]

Fuck. Geralt's not entirely sure how to handle this, but he's confident that 'leave the kid here' isn't going to impress anyone. And it's not what he wants to do, besides, but for a moment he just stares blankly.

But it passes, and he gets close and crouches down, reaching out with one gloves hand to grab an injured arm to have a look. Whether this kid likes it or not, pretty much. He shoves the tattered sleeve up and holds his arm beneath his face, smelling it. When he releases him, a little gentler, he says, "It doesn't smell like the plague. Yet. Should probably get you to one of the proctor witches anyway."

Geralt pushes to his feet in a smooth motion, fluid despite looking like his joints should creak, with his white hair and weathered visage. "Can you walk?"

( ooc; please lmk if you'd rather i edit this to avoid manhandling/change thread direction etc! i am ez )

[tryhard]

"O-ow, hey--"

Waver snarls as much in surprise as in pain when he's grabbed, his normally upright doglike ears pinning back, teeth bared just enough to show his sharper canines. He seems to figure out immediately that he's just being checked over and not threatened, but even if he's not trying to pull away immediately, he remains stiff and uncomfortable. When the stranger leans in like that, Waver flinches back a bit... then stares at him while he smells his arm, of all things.

"You can tell like that?"

Unfortunately, Waver hadn't even thought about the possibility of infection right away, and the reminder now makes him go even paler than he already is.

"R-right, probably, yeah..." Both in answer to the question, and the suggestion he go get checked out. Waver braces himself on one hand with a wince, but stubbornly shoves himself up to his feet even if he is sore.

"...ah. Thanks," he says a bit belatedly, carefully tugging his sleeves back down and looking a bit sheepish.

"For jumping in like that. You really helped me out."


(( ooc: no problem at all! manhandle away haha :> ))

[niespodzianka]

Geralt hasn't been around long enough to have a strong grasp on the speed of the sickness, but in the dream in the burning woods, that shit was instant. And while it was 'just' a dream, it was clearly trying to instruct the dreamers - on something or other, gods only know. Are they all a little bit infected, by virtue of being in this world? He wouldn't be surprised. But this kid doesn't smell like his arm's going to turn black and fall off in the next few minutes, at least.

"It's what we're here for," he says with a shrug. Learning how to combat these things. Dealing with contamination folds into that, he's sure. "Come on. I'll make sure you get there in one piece."

A few meters away, he can see the restless stirring of chilly wolves trying to pick a target between them and another knot of trainees; the sound of their footfalls is a constant twinge in Geralt's senses, easily keeping tabs on them. It's been very annoying having his utilitarian combat magic stripped and replaced with this overblown mage nonsense, but at least this world hasn't crippled him.

"What's your name?"

[tryhard]

"Waver," he replies, sticking close at Geralt's heels when he starts moving. He's still instinctively holding his injured arms against his chest, but otherwise doesn't complain or whine, ears pricked and pivoting on alert with every noise.

He can smell the wolves even before he sees them, their cold scent sharp and wrong, and making the soft fur sparsely coming in down Waver's own spine stand on end.

This is a hell of a time for introductions, but meeting like this, there's hardly going to be a better one.

[niespodzianka]

"Waiver?" Good old homophones. Geralt gives him a look, gold eyes appraising, like he's not sure if this kid is fucking with him. Eh, probably not. (Though it is kind of funny.) "I'm Geralt."

The wolves are edging closer, beginning to circle. Which could also be funny; Geralt's of the Wolf School, and the medallion on his chest is one of those very animals, its fanged mouth frozen in a snarl. But it doesn't glow or vibrate to alert him of nefarious magic - the enchanted object is deadened here, like everything else.

"What kind of combat are you supposed to be learning?"

[tryhard]

Close enough... not that either of them can hear the difference.

"Yeah. Waver Velvet." Apparently, this is an acceptable and perfectly normal British name in his world i.e. the Fate/ series is a bad franchise... just roll with it.

As for combat, though-- well, it's plenty clear by now he's terrible at it, whatever it is that he's supposed to be learning.

"Close-range. They said that's the best for the type of--" Even after months here, he trips over the word Monster when referring to himself.

"--for my kind."

Waver sighs, clutching the short sword he'd recovered close to his chest without much strength in his grip, wincing again. His ears and tail sort of wilt, anxious and annoyed.

"But I've never even held a sword before! And forget trying to get close enough to those things to use-- what? My hands? Nails? Not a chance."

[niespodzianka]

"Did you do any kind of fighting before getting stuck here?"

Geralt will never become the kind of teacher his own mentor was, but he's raised a child into a warrior, before. His advice might not be totally useless, even if it's gruffly delivered. That may have to wait, though, as the knot of wolves is now swiftly moving in.

The leader wastes no time in diving right towards them. Geralt, without hesitation, darts forward - a quick flash from the swing of his sword, and the wolf's head is flying in a different direction from its body. A stream of red-and-black infected blood trickles from the decapitated canine face, the rest of it crumpling to the frozen ground with a dull thud. He steps over it towards the other animals without missing a beat.

[tryhard]

"No." Not exactly, anyway. He'd barely done anything at all, but even if he could say he'd actually fought properly--

"Not like this."

Before he can elaborate or any questions can be asked, though, the wolves are closing in, and Waver immediately flinches back behind his unlikely escort, especially since the Witch seems to have it handled rather well. He knows when to stay out of the way.

The pack is circling now, the rest of them splitting off into smaller groups of ones and twos, starting to stalk around the sides and back. There are more of them than it seems there should be.

"Some are coming from this side too," he hisses urgently, doing his best to stay at his companion's back, both out of the way and not too close to any of those teeth.

"Can you handle this many? Is there anything we can do to call for help? A- a flare spell or something?"

[niespodzianka]

"We're fine."

There's no brash confidence in his voice - just steadiness. Geralt may be abysmal with this world's magic, and an absolute idiot in all things emotionally in-depth, but he can fuck up a horde of demon ice wolves no problemo. He herds Waver to one side, keeping him in his peripheral vision before he cuts across to the nearest wolf, killing it and forcing its companion to skirt away.

"Get your sword out and into a defensive position." Lesson time!! No better moment for it, since there are quite a few. Geralt's sure he can dispatch the lot of them, but if Waver trips over himself just trying to hide, things could go badly.

[tryhard]

The rush of adrenaline and panic at the wolves' numbers have Waver neatly forgetting about the painful scratches on his arms as he scrambles to get his sword up in front of him. Though he's never held a sword before this training camp, it seems he did pay attention to the lessons; his form is passable. Anything beyond that, however, might have to be helped along by a generous helping of good luck.

One of the monstrous, icy beasts tips its head up in a howl like a bitter winter wind through a canyon. Waver flinches to hear it, but stands firm, feet planet, sword out.

"Okay!" he shouts back, without looking over his shoulder. He stares the wolf down, waiting for the charge, and squeezes his fingers tighter around the grip to keep his hands from shaking.

"Ready."

[niespodzianka]

"If you block hard enough, it'll give you enough time to move back. It doesn't feel good running into a wall."

Geralt waits as one wolf pushes in, its movements unpredictable and jittery as its mind dies - barely-there sparks of animal instinct trying to sway it into a better tactic, but the berserker infection forcing it to plow forward.

"It can't morph through the sword. Stop it, and hop back without turning." idkhow2swordirl pls pretend this makes sense

If Waver doesn't do this cleanly, Geralt will be able to kill the thing before it mauls the kid. He keeps half an eye on the other wolves; one has bailed out like a cartoon character sensing its imminent demise, off to find softer ankles to gnaw at, but there are still a whole lot. He's angling to get them bunched up with this delay, and then try to just ... explode them, or something. Godsdamned magic. If he had his own he'd just set them on fire.

[tryhard]

"Stop and... hop," Waver mumbles, more to himself than in response. don't worry i wouldn't know the difference either

Easier said than done, though. He's stronger than he used to be, but that's frankly not saying a whole lot, especially when he's not used to it and not really confident at all. Luckily, there's no time to wallow in self-doubt. The beast rushes toward him, and Waver reacts.

He wants to jump back immediately, but instead, he forces himself to hold his ground, sword out and angling to shove back the creature, either to block or in hopes that it'll slash itself somehow. The attempt looks clumsy, but it's not entirely ineffective.

With a little cry of his own automatically escaping in the rush of adrenaline, he shoves his sword forward lengthwise as the wolf snaps its teeth, catching it across the snout. Immediately upon impact, though, he tries to jump back, taking away from the strength behind his blow-- but the wolf is stunned long enough for Geralt to intervene before it can get any further.

Waver's left clinging to his sword hilt, shoulders heaving and heart pounding with the rush of exhilaration and terror that keep him moving, turning to face a new threat coming from the side.

"S-stay back! Shoo!"

[niespodzianka]

It's a fine start, and better than he was doing when Geralt had snagged him in the first place, so that's good. Anyone willing to learn can learn, in his experience.

And speaking of experience: he stabs the wolf stunned by Waver's efforts, blade dipping in and out of its body with neat effectiveness. He's turning to another one before it's crumpled to the ground, aiming to make quick work of the rest of the pack. Hopefully that spark of potential from Waver will have the opportunity to grow into a proper fire, and they won't get to the proctor witches and find out he's got thirty seconds to live, or something equally abysmal.

It's a bloodbath, but an efficient one. Geralt doesn't waste time, and only has to employ his shoddy magic once - making the ground beside them explode, scaring one wolf to the side with a terrified yelp, and turning another into so much gory, infected mist, splattering revoltingly all over the frost and snow. They pass another small group who're recouping after felling an ent, the corpse of the great tree laying on the ground, forever frozen in a last death wail, and they're helpful enough to give the pair directions to the witches overseeing the outing.

[tryhard]

Waver's just doing his best out here, flailing more than actually neatly swinging the sword, but at least with barely enough grace to keep from seriously putting himself or his new ally in danger. It's a little more effective at keeping the wolves away from him while his far more experienced companion takes care of them, and in the panic of running and trying to keep himself in one piece, he barely even feels the pain.

By the time the wolves are dealt with, leaving the snow behind them a red-splashed mess, Waver's panting for breath and bleeding through his sleeves-- but keeping up, somehow, as he stumbles behind Geralt through the slush. He shies away from the fallen ent, lingering behind his protector and letting him do the talking, and follows obediently at his heels all the way to the proctors.

It's not until they get there that it finally really hits Waver that getting himself injured and possibly infected is a big fucking problem, and this was supposed to be a test. Well, he definitely failed it, didn't he? More than that, with the immediate danger gone, that fight-or-flight sort of panic morphs into a deeper, insistent dread clenching in his chest: what if he really is infected?

Embarrassingly clean short sword hanging from one sluggishly bleeding arm at his side, Waver casts a nervous glance up at the older man when they stop. One of the proctors is already coming over. Waver's ears and tail seem to shrink with every step of the Witch's approach.

"Thanks for accompanying me." He doesn't sound like he means it, but it's mostly because he's scared to find out what they'll say, not out of a lack of appreciation for Geralt keeping his hide in one piece.

[niespodzianka]

The witcher shrugs. "Don't worry about it, kid."

The Wilder witch seems to just know that Geralt hasn't been magicking the way he should, but with nary a scratch on him and so many infected creatures felled under his sword, there's nothing to openly critique. Instead, she turns her attention to Waver.

Geralt could bail now, he's pretty sure, but he's curious about the young man's fate - personally, a little, but mostly to know more about the spread of the illness. It's a critical aspect of all of this - the crux of it, really. Distantly he wonders about ways it might parallel the White Frost, but such philosophy is ultimately beyond him.

[tryhard]

Oh, he's worried -- but not about that. Still, Waver finds himself weirdly glad, even if he is embarrassed, that he isn't entirely alone as the Wilder witch sharply bids him to take off his shirt and let her take a closer look. Waver doesn't bother protesting, though the last thing he wants to do is remove his clothing in the cold in front of strangers; he knows time is of the essence, and he's only becoming more nervous as the potential severity of this begins to really settle in.

He stands there, looking cold and miserable, ears pinned and his usually curled tail down while the proctor Witch pokes and prods at him, turning his arms this way and that and mumbling to herself. She's a stern-looking, older woman with a no-nonsense glare, and she's not too gentle with him either-- but after a few minutes, Waver is declared stupidly lucky and sent on his way with a warning.

She fixes a hard stare on Geralt too, while Waver is squirming back into what's left of his shirt.

"You'll do well to remember this is a test of magic for Witches, not brute strength. Practice what needs practicing. Don't fall into old habits and let your magic build up."

[niespodzianka]

"You think that's brute strength?" Geralt asks, somewhat rhetorical but not sounding offended; the Wilder narrows her eyes at him, unimpressed, but obviously not about to fall into a debate about sword combat, no matter how good-natured. Geralt preemptively folds anyway, raising his hands in a placating gesture. Yeah, sure, he'll get on that. It's a good a response as she's getting out of him, so with one last disapproving look, she turns away.

He just snorts. Whatever. It's not like he's going to let his actual practical skills rust over. He'd go nuts quicker than he'd explode with pent-up magic.

Anyhoo.

"Congrats on the clean bill of health," he says.

[tryhard]

Waver still looks a bit shaken, but the color is returning to his cheeks. He tucks his shirt back in and tugs on his torn coat once again, shivering and tugging forlornly at the shredded sleeves.

"Thanks. Turns out it was just ice..."

Lucky him. It hurts, and the Wilder hadn't actually deemed it necessary to waste her strength healing him any since the injury is just cuts and scrapes. This leaves Waver drained of the suddenly fading adrenaline and aching all over, banged-up and sore from training and the little bit of fighting he managed to do.

Waver sighs, picking up his sword to buckle it back on now that he's fully dressed. The glare he shoots the weapon might as well be blaming it for all his discomfort right now.

"I'd gladly switch you, you know. Too bad it doesn't work that way."

[niespodzianka]

"I'm already part monster," Geralt says, and points at his face. See? Weird monster eyeballs. It's kind of a joke. He knows people transforming into monsters here have it significantly easier than those suddenly 'gifted' with magical ability. But he doesn't mind taking the piss out of himself. Maybe it'll h..elp? No, it won't. He just doesn't have any canned niceties about it. (Or about anything.)

"You have potential." He shrugs. "Dunno about the monster shit, but you did what I said and didn't fall over. You can learn if you want to."

[tryhard]

"Huh?"

Waver squints up at him, trying to figure out what he even means. The eyes?? Those aren't even a big enough deal to register, not in a place like this.

At least he's been somewhat distracted from sulking now by wondering if he's being made fun of or something. Should he be insulted? Waver's lips purse, ears back and wary.

--the compliment, of all things, is not what he expected. Well, it's a bit of a compliment, anyway.

"Learn to fight with this?" The palm of his hand smack the short sword's pommel. "Maybe just enough to not get eaten next time... if there is a next time. I don't know that I'm planning on it."

He says that, but he also knows that he may not get the choice. Even if he does get a choice though, depending on the circumstances, it's not a bad idea. Waver's goal is to be by his king's side. He's ridden with Iskandar into battle more than once, armed with only his paltry magic and his quick thinking, but now he's lost one of those. Claws and teeth aren't a good replacement. Neither is a sword, really, but...

"I'm not some hack-and-slash type warrior. I just want to learn to defend myself and... perhaps support someone stronger than me, too."

[niespodzianka]

Alas, Geralt's sense of humor isn't actually funny. Oh well. But it is strange, to suddenly be the less monstrous one, the literal monster genes spliced into his DNA having no effect on his standing here. (Stranger is perhaps a medieval fantasy world knowing what genetics are!! And yet) He may not have the emotional depth to be able to unpack his actual feelings about the sudden and drastic change of caste or identity. Surely he can just keep ignoring that and never experience any psychological fallout and everything will be fine forever.

"Are there other kinds of warriors?"

Still not funny, shut up, Geralt.

"If you're willing to put in the work, I can teach you."

[tryhard]

Waver fixes him with a flat stare, propping his free hand in a fist at his hip.

"You're literally a Witch. People are out here fighting with magic all the time. Don't be obtuse."

Now that Waver's sure he isn't infected and/or about to be ripped apart by wolves, it's becoming clear Geralt might have a bit more attitude to contend with from this particular reluctant student than originally anticipated. Of course, Waver thinks he's perfectly justified in this case, shooting down a stupid question, even if it was a joke. It's in no way because he's extra-sensitive to the fact he can't do magic anymore. Nope.

"I'm willing to learn to do what I need to."

He frowns, surveying Geralt sharply. Waver had heard the Wilder scolding him.

"...and what about you? All sword, no spells? Don't waste what you were given."

(Of course, if someone told Waver this regarding his Monster abilities, he'd probably get really offended but... well. grass being greener, kettle being black, etc )

[niespodzianka]

Huh. Not so wavering now. (Ha, ha.) He might be snapping at Geralt's fingertips, but he remembers him out there not an hour ago - and even if he didn't, he's difficult to ruffle.

"If I'd sat and tried to work out something I'm still learning instead of taking action, you and I both would be dead right now," he says, sounding calm and unbothered. He's struggling with the native magic, but he'll figure it out. Eventually.

(Or he'll explode and die which honestly might be fine.)

"I appreciate that the hosts here are encouraging us to work with what this world has decided to impose on us. I hear we're on a schedule."

With the exploding and dying thing, though it seems to be infinitely worse for those who've ended up as 'monsters'.

[tryhard]

"You know I'm not advocating doing that instead of acting in an emergency," Waver sighs, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. He gets the feeling this guy is just being stubborn for the sake of it (and as a stubborn little shit himself, maybe it just takes one to know one??).

The note about being on a 'schedule' makes Waver's brows furrow a bit more, but he just shakes his head. Though he hasn't asked, he'd put money on Geralt not having a Bond yet. Which is all the more reason to actually use the magic he's been given.

"What's the problem, then? Magic not your 'thing'?"