Castoff: Foolish Endeavors (ch. 2) (Patreon)

He was simply unreal, Ciri thought to herself, and not for the first time either. It wasn't the first time she thought it through a very long night, as every monster in a ten league radius was drawn right to them -- drowners, ghouls, a water bag, and even a werewolf seemed paltry compared to the fiend that came charging through the hamlet. His sword was too rough and big to be called a sword. It had to be at least a hundredweight of raw iron, but the man wielded it all the same and with deft speed that seemed impossible.

Ciri watched him slam its rough edge into the side of a ghoul, and between his impossible strength and the sheer weight of the blade that was bigger than the equally large man that wielded it, the rotten ghoul was split apart, as were the drowners that had the misfortune of standing next to it. Her own sword arm felt stiff after a night spent fending off the unending horde of creatures, and every movement sent a flash of pain through her shoulder blade, her injuries flaring under the strain -- her shirt was soaked with blood and most of it was her own. She hung near the door, the mud around the small hovel was so thick with bile and blood that each step threatened to claim her boots.

A ghoul came in low to the ground, jumping off of the corpses of its brethren to bypass the bog and leaping for her. Ciri sucked in a sharp breath, ignoring how everything in her body just screamed for her to stop, and sidestepped the lunge, using the ghoul's own momentum against it to help her slide her blade down through its collarbone, skewering its intestines. Ripping her blade free with a splash of black bile, her gaze slid to the man in time to watch him stomp on a drowner's chest, crushing its ribs, before bisecting another with an almost casual backswing.

"What is he?" Ciri questioned -- she had been trained by some of the greatest swordsmen in the world. Even without the Witcher mutations, she had gone through the gauntlet. For hours upon hours, Ciri had fought while conserving her endurance for the sake of this drawn-out battle and as dawn started to brighten the sky, Ciri found herself flagging. The man however, whose name she still has yet to learn, fought with the same vigor that he started with. He looked human, if a rather big example of one, but Ciri was rapidly forming doubts about his true nature.

"He!" An energetic voice announced into her ear, making Ciri flinch. Floating just over her shoulder was a… Ciri wasn't entirely certain what he was. Three inches in height, insectoid wings, no genitalia, a mop of dark blue hair, wide eyes, and pointed ears. Ciri wanted to call him a fairy, but despite a world full of monsters and creatures, the existence of fairies was unconfirmed. The common folk made them up in their ignorance of the true monsters of the world. "Is! My black castle property! The one! The only! It's… Guuuuutttssss!"

That was entirely too much enthusiasm for Ciri. Her entire body ached, her wounds flared with pain, her stomach felt like it had shriveled up to the size of a peanut, and despite the bile and rotting corpses that littered the hamlet, Ciri was pretty sure she could smell herself over the stench of death. Still, he had a name now. "Guts?" She echoed.

Her gaze dartedto a Scurver stumbling forward at the edge of the hamlet. "Guts!" she shouted, drawing the attention of the titan of a man as he strode forward to dispatch it.

Guts glanced over to her with eyes so dark they were nearly black in hue -- he did look tired, but it was seemingly confined to his face. A pair of dark bags under his eyes told Ciri that this wasn't the first time that he had stayed up all night. Likewise, there was a weight to his gaze that told her that this wasn't the first time he spent that night fighting a long and drawn out battle.

"Scurvers explode on death," she told him, earning a curt nod as he continued toward it. He reared his sword back, and when he swung, instead of striking it with the edge of the sword, he hit the Scurver with the flat of it. Ciri watched in dull awe as the Scurver was launched into the air a good dozen feet before it crashed against one of the buildings, reduced to a mangled mass of twitching flesh, where it exploded into a toxic mist that launched shards of needle-like bone everywhere.

It was then that the first rays of dawn emerged through the thick canopy of trees. Almost as if a curtain was being raised up for the new day. Guts stood where he was, now fully illuminated by the morning sun -- his pale skin sweaty, a slight droop in his shoulders that betrayed the tension leaving him. Ciri stumbled a step back and leaned heavily on the front door of the building she had been protecting.

"And I'm Puck!" Puck introduced himself, his hands on his hips. "I'm a first aid kit! And an elf!' He tacked on, going to the wound on her side. Ciri just about swatted him away, only to stop herself -- throughout the night, she had seen an odd figure darting through the air to distract some of the monsters. That had to be Puck based on the size. More than that, the moment that his tiny hands touched her wound, Ciri felt the pain vanish.

A breath that she had been holding left her, "An elf, huh? I have to say -- you seem a little small compared to the elves that I know." Elves like Avallac'h, her mentor and friend. Who could take care of himself but given how they had parted… Ciri was worried. Wherever here was -- it wasn't the target destination to that hastily made portal.

"What?! I'll have you know that I'm the tallest of all the elves! Well, except for Danan. And Pick. And Peck. And Pock. And… no, I'm pretty sure I'm taller than Pyok." Puck defended, emerging from her bloody shirt to plant his hands on his hips and thrusting his chest out, as if he trying to  make himself taller to prove his point. He seemed playful. That didn't mean he wasn't dangerous, though. Godlings were playful as well, and more than a few people died because of their playful pranks.

"I'll take your word for it," Ciri said, deciding to humor him. Her gaze slid over to Guts, who was sheathing his massive blade on his back. "My name's Ciri. Witcher," she tacked on, expecting a reaction from the two, and while she did get one, it wasn't the one she expected.

"You're a witch? Cool!" Puck exclaimed, his eyes going so wide that they could have fallen right out of her head. "Do a magic spell!"

"I don't care," Guts dismissed her gruffly. Ciri didn't take that to heart -- they did just fight through the night. He was probably just cranky.

Still, an odd reaction to her profession. Well, desired profession. "I just hope there aren't any others looking for work around here. We've done a year's worth of work in a single night. Now, let's go check up on the damsels in distress," Ciri decided, turning around to knock at the door. Her sharp hearing picked up the shuffling within, "You can come out now! The coast is clear."

She waited while Puck went over to Guts to take care of his injuries. After a long minute, whatever furniture had been shoved in front of the door was cleared away, and almost as soon as the door cracked open, curious children poured from the house like a flood. All of them looked unharmed, and at some point the fear must have faded because a little boy started gaping around like he couldn't tell which monster corpse he wanted to look at first. He was spoiled for choice in that regard.

"Travik! Aynara! Don't touch anything, either of you! Monsters are poisonous and they'll kill you dead if you touch them even a little," an elderly woman barked out, using an ancient yet tried and true tactic to prevent children from sticking their noses where they didn’t belong -- with a warning that it’d get bitten off if they got into mischief. While keeping an eye on the children to make sure they didn’t get themselves killed, Ciri turned her attention to the woman who emerged from the hovel. She was older -- her hair gray and her skin sagging with wrinkles. Her eyes were bloodshot, telling Ciri she had stayed up through the night as well to protect the children.

She looked lost, though as she stepped outside of the hovel, she seemed to be basking in the children complaining that they couldn't touch the monster corpses. "I'm Ciri," Ciri introduced herself, gesturing to Guts as she very carefully, and pointedly, set her sword to the side. Neither her nor Guts would look like a friendly face after this ordeal. "That's Guts, and-"

"I'm Puck!" Puck introduced himself where he was nearly being torn limb from limb by curious children as they poked and prodded at him. He didn't seem to mind it overly much though. The old woman's gaze flickered between them, not sure what to make of what had happened or the sight that she saw before her.

The elderly woman nodded shakily, glancing down at the smooth palms of her hands, eyeing them like a snake hidden in the grass. "I...I'm Anna," she introduced herself, her voice rough and sounding as lost as she looked. "They're dead. Those...horrid monsters are dead." Despite having killed them throughout the night, Ciri knew exactly which monsters she was talking about.

"They are. Guts and I made sure of it," Ciri reassured, hoping that wasn't a lie. Monsters like that, whatever those crones were, they had a habit of cheating death. Anna simply nodded, though looking like she couldn't quite believe it. "Can you tell me why you're here, why the children are…?"

Anna nodded, a thumb going over the smooth flesh of her palm. Ciri recognized it as the action of someone that expected something to be there, and couldn't bring themselves to believe that it wasn't. If she had any money, she would have bet that there was a magic mark, of binding most likely, that was missing. Anna nodded again, visibly steeling herself as she spoke.

"I had made a deal with them. A horrid deal that I...I will regret to the end of my days," Anna began, already on the verge of tears. Puck floated over to her, somehow escaping the children who protested his departure, landing on her shoulder and placing a hand on her cheek. Despite Puck being all of three inches tall, Anna leaned into the touch as she swallowed a sob. "My husband was a vile man. He wasn't always so, but war...war changes folk. For the worst. He beat me and my daughter, raped me whenever he wished, and he murdered a dear friend of mine."

Ciri nodded, showing that she understood and giving Anna time to find the strength to keep speaking. "One day I found I was with child. I...I couldn't bear it. I hated him more than anything in this world, and...I heard wives’ tales about the three witches of Crookback Bog." Anna let out a shuddering breath, a tear sliding down her wrinkled cheek, "I asked them to get rid of it in a desperate prayer...and they answered it. We made a deal -- they would get rid of...of my baby and I would serve them for a year."

Ciri knew there was a but coming before Anna continued, "but they didn't tell me how they would get rid of it. They killed the babe growing in my belly, but it was killing me as well. I was given a talisman when I realized what they had done.” A hand went up to Puck for reassurance, which he happily gave, “My daughter and I were going to leave Crow’s Perch, but my husband caught us. He beat me so bad I miscarried the babe there...when he passed out, we left. But I dropped my talisman, and they caught me.”

“It sounds like the world is a brighter place without them,” Ciri noted, her heart clenching in her chest at the thought of what this woman must have gone through. Anna nodded, fighting back tears and wiping away another that had managed to trail down her other cheek.

“I think they meant it as a cruel jest when they made me look after the children, but they were the only light in my life for the past months. I don’t know what they intended for them, and I hope I never learn,” Anna swore, looking over at the children. Ciri smiled lightly at the sight, but she didn’t know if Anna had noticed.

“So now it’s just a question on what those things were,” Ciri muttered to herself, standing up. Puck hugged Anna’s cheek, an odd sight, but if there was ever proof that not all monsters were inherently evil, then she was looking at it. Anna looked like she was about to break down crying at the contact.

“They were apostles,” Guts’ deep voice informed from behind her, standing at an odd angle. As if he had in the process of turning and walking away, only for the story to catch his interest. Ciri turned around, trying to connect the name with a type of monster, but came up empty. “Humans that sacrificed their humanity for power,” he explained as if he could sense her confusion.

“I’ve never heard of anything quite like that before,” Ciri commented, more to herself than to Guts. She had heard of pacts between people and monsters, usually, one being subservient to the other, but sacrificing their humanity directly for power?

“Guts…” Puck muttered, turning his attention to the massive human. Anna did as well.

“Thank you-” she started, swallowing around the lump in her throat before she tried to thank him, only for Guts to cut her off.

“Don’t thank me,” he interrupted gruffly. “I didn’t kill them to save you or the kids.” Guts shifted and Ciri was taken back by the anger simmering in his gaze. Enough so that Ciri found herself glancing at her sword resting by the door. Now that he wasn’t a figure dressed in black in the middle of the night, Ciri got her first proper look at him.

He was a handsome man, with short black hair and a strong jawline, but his eyes detracted from it more than the scars that littered his face ever could. The bags were so pronounced that it looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in his entire life. The anger simmering in his eyes wasn’t born from being missing some sleep. It was a part of him. The children were oblivious to it. They walked up to him, poking at his armor, pestering him with questions about whether he was a knight or if they could see his sword.

"Meh, don't listen to him! Guts is a good guy. Deep down. Like, way, way, way deep down," Puck insisted, and that wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement. Guts' nostrils flared before he turned away, nearly knocking one of the children over, and began to walk away. He… he-

"You're just leaving?!" Ciri was quick to snatch her sword back up and press after him. The callousness-! "We need to get these children out of here. We need to bring them back home," Ciri insisted, cutting ahead of Guts, only to find that he was more than willing to walk through her. She slammed a hand on his chest, not at all daunted by his size or the scowl he wore. "I get that you're an ass, but can you really leave a bunch of children in the middle of a bog with no protection?"

Ciri didn't think so. Guts fought hard. Incredibly hard throughout the night. It didn't matter what had charged towards him, Guts never allowed anything to get near that hovel. The fact that he stopped when she slammed a hand on his black armor told her that she had made a point. Just not one good enough to him from brushing her hand off to the side.

"Not without protection. You'll stay with them," Guts stated, certain of it. And… that was incredibly frustrating. He was right. She would. Worse, he knew it too. "They're your problem, not mine."

He made to move on, but Ciri shoved him back, making the perpetual scowl on his face deepen. "Them being with me is going to put them in more danger," Ciri told him, catching Guts' attention. "I'm being chased by the Wild Hunt. I managed to give them the slip thanks to a friend, but it is only a matter of time before they track me down again. The children will slow me down, and traveling with me will only put them in more danger." she said, hating the truth of it.

She had been so confident that she had given the Wild Hunt the slip. She spent a year in Night City -- a city that was as wondrous as it was awful and deadly. She thought it was finally safe to come out. She wanted to go home. Only to discover that the Wild Hunt had been waiting for her to come out of hiding. Apparently, despite there being thousands upon thousands of worlds out there, it still wasn't enough to hide in. All because of the cursed Elder Blood that flowed through her veins.

"That," Guts began, his voice a low and menacing growl, "is not my problem." With an almost casual shove, Ciri was nearly knocked off of her feet when he pushed her aside to move past her. She wasn't sure she could have stopped him even if she tried. Her lips thinned, her eyes narrowing into slits as she stared at Guts' back.

"What happened last night," Puck told her, landing on her shoulder after watching the exchange, "happens every night to Guts."

What?

"He's cursed or something. Every night monsters attack him endlessly or until the monsters run out. So, don't get too mad at him. Guts is worried that the kids will be in danger or killed because he's near them. It's… happened before," Puck explained and that completely drained the anger out of Ciri, leaving her feeling a bit hollow. Guts was cursed? With a curse that drew all the nearby monsters to him every night? That was… rather ineffective if whoever had cursed him was trying to kill him -- well, it would be effective for most. Just not Guts, as it would seem.

But, if that happens every night, then maybe Guts was right. Maybe, despite the Wild Hunt chasing her to the ends of the earth, the children were somehow safer with her. It seemed impossible.

However… "Your wound," Ciri called out to a retreating Guts on the edge of the property. "On the nape of your neck. Was it from a necrophage? The ghouls? If it was, then I need to brew a poultice for you before you go, because that bite will kill you if left untreated." That got Guts to stop. She had noticed it early in the fight. After a long night, he had to at least be feeling some of the effects -- a fever, lightheadedness, and worse as the mother of all infections spread through his veins from the skin torn by that bite. "You could take your chances with Puck's healing powder, but I know a Witcher's brew that'll take care of it. It'll taste like death, and make you feel worse, but you'll live."

“Oh~! You’ve already figured out how to get through to that big dumb idiot,” Puck exclaimed, and that comment almost sent Guts walking off out of spite. But, thankfully, not even he was stubborn enough catch his death just to prove a point. Guts didn’t say anything when he walked by, but she did sense that he was distinctly unhappy that he had to spend a even second longer with them.

Anna watched the exchange transpire, before approaching them again, bringing the less adventurous children that clung to her old ratty and faded skirts with her. “Sers,” Anna asked, floundering for the proper way to address them before settling on treating them as if they were knights. “What… what will be done with us?” Her gaze slid to Guts, perhaps because he was the only one of them in full armor,  a silent question there. She was thankful, but she seemed to realize that Guts was more than willing to leave them behind to fend for themselves.

“We can take you to the nearest village,” Ciri offered, but there was fear in Anna’s expression at that prospect. “Unless… we shouldn’t?”

“All the villages around the Crookback Bog swore to the Crones, sers,” she informed them, and that seemed to get a reaction out of Guts. His eyes narrowed dangerously at Anna, almost as if demanding an explanation, so she continued fearfully. “They offer gifts to them. And prayers. And…” her hands fell upon the children at her sides, what went unsaid abundantly clear. “If… if it at all possible… could you bring us to Crow's Perch. My… My husband there is the Baron. He’s a cruel man, but he’ll take the children in and raise them up right.”

Ciri’s lips thinned -- Her destination was ultimately Novigrad, the last independent city in the Northern Kingdoms. There, she would have friends. Triss, Yennefer. Geralt. People that she could rely on to help her rescue Avallac’h. The Wild Hunt wouldn’t have killed him. Not when they could use him to bait her out. It was a trap she would be walking into, but she intended to walk into it armed enough to overcome whatever they threw at her.

Still, Anna was afraid. Terrified. She would be returning to a hell of her own making for the sake of the children, and Ciri was reluctant to let her suffer whatever fate her husband would give her for her defiance. “Do you have any family that I could take you to? Beyond your husband?” Ciri questioned, making Anna swallow thickly before she offered a small nod.

“My daughter… We sent her to Oxenfurt for study. She’s rooming with my sister and her kin,” Anna informed, her tone a little more hopeful. Oxenfurt was a detour, and one that would take at least a week of travel, but it was only a stone's throw away from Novigrad.

Avallac’h would live. He was as crafty as anyone she had ever known. She’d put even odds that Avallac’h had escaped capture himself. Ciri knew that she didn’t need to worry about him, but she did anyway. Taking in a slow breath, Ciri forced herself to prioritize, and the answer as to what she should do was clear -- help the people that she knew she could help rather than rushing off blindly to save someone that might not need saving.

“I can do that. It’ll be hard travel. We’ll need supplies,” Ciri said, committing herself to this. Puck threw up a hand while Anna looked so relieved that she could weep. She just might anyway.

“That building has a bunch of food and freaky stuff, o’Capi-tan!” Puck offered, pointing at the third building that must house the larder.

Her gaze slid to Guts, “With luck, it’ll have the ingredients needed for the poultice.” Guts gave a curt nod as the two of them broke off to head to the larder. Upon opening the door, Ciri saw that it was very well stocked. Both with foodstuffs and herbs. She had everything she needed to make the poultice three times over. It was almost a shame to leave it all behind, but they would need to travel light to save time.

“Last night,” Ciri began, gathering the necessary herbs for the poultice, keeping an eye on Guts as he lingered by the door, watching her carefully. He looked like he thought that she was going to poison him. It was a real wonder how someone as chipper as Puck could travel with someone like Guts, who looked like he didn’t even know how to laugh. A smile might actually kill him dead. “Puck said that that was your doing? Or, rather, a curse?” she asked, fishing for information for information, trying to understand the little that she had heard from the Crones.

They called Guts a Struggler. They also called him a sacrifice. She’d also like to know why Guts and Puck were even here -- she dropped in because of a hastily made portal, but that didn’t explain why Guts was here. There were also some things that didn’t add up about him.

When he looked at her, he tilted his head to the side. A habit that she recognized well enough, only those that had it tended to only have one eye. It was how they kept someone in their focus. There was his odd arsenal of weapons, the oddest of all was his metal arm that had some kind of loud weapon in it that tore through one of the Crones. Above all else was that mockery of a sword that he wielded. In short, Guts was a conundrum wrapped in an enigma. He also struck her as the type that’d rather rip out their own teeth than give an honest answer.

“Puck,” Guts growled, his voice low and gruff, “needs to keep his mouth shut.”

“Do you know who cursed you?” Ciri questioned and based on the look of pure murderous rage that lit up in Guts’ eyes, the answer was a definitive yes. He said nothing, simply glowering at her, as if daring her to probe deeper.

Naturally, Ciri did. “How long have you been cursed for? Is it usually this bad?” she continued, her hands moving on their own as she prepared the herbs for the poultice.

“Whats it to you?” Guts bit out, an undertone of promised violence if she didn’t stop pestering him. Guts struck her as someone dangerous. Impressively so. It was hard to say if he’d actually try to kill her or not, but Ciri was leaning towards not. After all, he did defend the children against a horde of monsters. He could put up the unfriendly act all that he wanted, but she knew knights that would cut and run long before even the first monster showed up.

“I’m a Witcher,” Ciri repeated and… there was nothing in his expression. Part of that was because Guts’ face seemed stuck in a perpetual scowl, but there was no confusion. No shock. No revulsion or hatred. It was like the word meant absolutely nothing to him. “It’s my job to help out with things like curses. My thoughts were that you were here to hunt down the Crones -- the apostles, as you call them -- because they cursed you, but that doesn't line up. Why are you here, then?”

Guts didn’t answer, rather predictably. He just glared at her as she finished preparing the bundle of herbs that she then put in a bowl and doused in spirits. “How long until the poultice is done?” He questioned instead, his tone telling her that there was a correct answer to that question and it was sometime within the next five minutes.

“I’m asking,” Ciri continued, ignoring the question, “because I could be in a position to help-”

“I don’t want your help,” he snapped at her, his eyes narrowing. “The kids, an old woman, and now me? Aren’t you being hunted yourself?” He shot back at her, not at all accepting the idea that she just wanted to help. That it was her job to break curses. That no one on this planet deserved to spend every night in a fitfulstruggle for their lives. Ciri didn’t know his story, but she suspected that he had a hard life long before he was cursed. He was incredibly distrustful.

Diplomacy was never one of her strong suits -- not as a princess, nor as a witcher. Still, those old lessons weren’t entirely forgotten in favor of poultice making and swordplay. “It’s because I’m being hunted,” Ciri answered, catching his attention. “I don’t know when the Wild Hunt will find me. They could be in the trees watching us now for all I know. I’m trying to help you so you’ll make a deal with me -- if I have to leave, or if I get captured, that you’ll be there to protect Anna and the children and escort them to Oxenfurt.”

Guts wouldn’t accept a helping hand. Ciri barely knew him and that was already abundantly clear. But, he didn’t seem beyond making a deal.

“And why would I do that?” He questioned, and how he spoke… that was the tone of a mercenary fishing for a price.

“I happen to know two of the greatest Sorceresses in the world,” Ciri stated, quite proud of that fact. Triss Merigold and Yennefer of Vengerberg -- they might not share blood, but they were family to her all the same. “If anyone can help you break your curse, then it would be them.”

“I don’t want it broken,” Guts dismissed the offer out of hand, catching her flatfooted. That was insane. Who would want to live like that?

“Even if it means never getting a full night’s sleep for the rest of your life?” Ciri questioned and, try as he might, Guts couldn’t quite keep the desire out of his gaze after hearing that. The man looked tired. The kind of tired that you felt deep in your bones, when you were scraping the bottom of the barrel for energy to keep going. “Help me help Anna and the kids, and I swear to you, I will help you with your curse. If I can’t… well, at the very least you won’t be fighting hordes of monsters on your own.”

Taking out the soaked herbs, she gave them a squeeze before putting them in a bandage. Handing that to Guts to put on his wound, she also offered the bowl filled with residue and spirits to drink. “Deal?” she asked him, searching his gaze. Guts was the most monstrously strong fighter that she had ever seen before in her life, and that included every Witcher she had ever met. If the Wild Hunt did come for her, she knew that Guts would be able to protect the children.

Guts snatched the bowl from her hand and swallowed the residue with a single gulp, his expression not so much as twitching at the foul taste.

“Deal,” he said, almost as if he were forcing the word past his lips.

Ciri gave him a beaming smile in response, “I look forward to traveling with you then. I expect it's going to be… interesting.”

...

It's been two years since I last updated this story. Feels like it's been a lot longer. Castoff has been resurrected from the dead as a commission story. I planned for it to be updated on Wednesdays alongside Legends Never Die, a new story that went up today, but updating two stories on the same day at the same time was way more involved than I thought it would be, so Castoff will be updated every other Thursday at least twice a week. I hope you all enjoy!