#arnaghad

[donovaneagle2098]

A Complete Encyclopedia of the Lore of Every Witcher School

This is a project I've been working on for a long time. The Witcher Schools in general have lore spread across 3 or 4 different sources, so it's very easy to find inaccurate details about each school due to a person only going off of one source without even knowing of the others. Hell, I've been guilty of this in the past. So I've gone out of my way to find every source available for the various Witcher Schools and compile it into one master post, mostly pulling from the standalone Gwent game, and the Witcher TRPG. Without further ado, let's start out with the original school, the Order of Witchers.

Witcher schools are like the Clans of Skellige, subtly different, but largely united by their common ground, and that common ground is the Order of Witchers.

The Order of Witchers began as an experiment by the rogue mages Alzur and his mentor Cosimo Malaspina. They "recruited" tests subjects from orphanages, buying them from neglectful parents, or outright kidnapping street kids.

From Cosimo's Gwent Card:

"Children keep asking him for gifts. He doesn’t know why, but it really helps with finding subjects for his experiments."

The main goal of this project was to create an order of knights artificially mutated and imbued with extreme levels of magic to protect people from a world where, at the time, monsters were often literally around every corner.

The mutation experiments were grueling, and most early candidates died horribly, the girls especially, as the mutagenic compounds the mages were working with at the time were better suited for a boys physiology, and they quickly stopped trying to find a mixture that worked well with women, instead refining the more successful candidate pool. Even with these refinements, however, the Witchers couldn't actually generate much in the way of magical power, at least not nearly as much as those funding the project had hoped for.

These early candidates were encouraged to stick to political neutrality, were told of their duty to protect the common people, and their sword instructor tried to encourage them to take on knightly virtues to live their lives by, though only a few candidates actually bought fully into these particular knightly ideals.

The school developed a training regimen that all later Witcher schools would put their own small twists on. They perfected the whirling sword style, practiced on the Pendulum and Gauntlet training courses. They learned the Witcher Sign magic, created by Cosimo. They were taught hunting and monster lore from experts hired from across the world, and master alchemists crafted the famous Witcher potions.

Ultimately, funding from this school would be pulled due to the Witcher candidates lack of truly powerful magic ability, and the order would start to fracture. Witchers dissatisfied with their lot in life after being forcibly mutated, and railing against the Order's enforced ideals began getting combatative with other Witchers over petty contracts. At this time, contracts were so plentiful that there was no real need to fight over them, but these dissident Witchers did so anyway out of a desire for autonomy and to be free of the Order's code, which they saw as having no practical purpose to prepare new Witchers for the road ahead, and hypocritical as it was forced on them by the mages who never cared for the Witcher's lives. This culminated in one such outspoken Witcher, Arnaghad, attacking another Witcher who poached a contract from him.

After being forced into the painful life of a Witcher, Arnaghad loathed anyone who imposed their will upon him, the Order and it's codes especially. He led an attack on the Order proper, aided by fellow Witchers who respected his defiance towards authority. Once they were beaten back, these dissidents fled to the Amell mountain range to start the next Witcher school, the School of the Bear.

The School of the Bear is one of the most misunderstood schools of them all, owing to the first major lore drop about them being largely in-universe rumors and conjecture surrounding the school, and as such I may need to go more in depth. The two major misconceptions stemming from this is the rumor about their armor, which claims that they don't bother dodging like the other Witchers and instead take blows head on (generally a bad idea, according to Geralt in the books), and the rumor about them attacking most Witchers they meet.

I contacted Cody Pondsmith, who wrote a great deal of this lore, and he mentioned that Bears do often threaten or even fight other Witchers, but in a very Skellige way, only to ward off the other Witcher from contracts they want. The Bears just want to live lives where they aren't commanded by others, and were trained especially brutally, and so will fight for what contracts they want. However they will NEVER kill another Witcher, just draw first blood (outside of duels to decide who runs the school, which occasionally turn deadly. It's unknown if Arnaghad has ever lost these duels) and if that other Witcher stands up to the Bear, they'll let them have the contract and if they meet up and work together enough even maybe become a lifelong friend.

To quote Cody himself: "I like to think of the Witcher Order as a big family in which the Bear School is the blunt, no-nonsense brother. He can be prickly and a bit of a bully sometimes but he takes his job seriously and he can be a good drinking buddy if you get to know him. Not the friendliest of people but far from evil. If you stand up to him and show him you're not afraid of him, he'll respect you."

The other rumor is also an exaggeration. The Witcher TRPG mentions that the Bear armor was designed with flexibility in mind, and while they trained to take on weaker blows with their armor and "mastery of the Quen sign", they also trained how to move quickly in their armor if they needed to dodge a fatal blow. The Bears also still trained on the gauntlet and pendulum like the other schools. Cody Pondsmith also confirmed that the Bears are just as agile as the other Witchers.

The Bears' core philosophy is almost very Lambert like, viewing Witcher's work not as a duty, or knightly virtue, but as difficult, brutal work. The only reason they stick to this work is to do a job where no one else commands them and they're left in peace. They focus only on the practical aspects of their profession, and as such discourage their students from working together in training, since Witchers work alone. As Arnaghad said, "We pass through life alone, better get used to it!" As a result, Bears are very isolated, preferring their own company to that of other Witchers, and were encouraged to value their autonomy and self care above all else. The Bears' final trial involved climbing to the top of Mt. Gorgon and back, and any who died from the cold were left "as a sobering reminder of the dangers of their trade". Despite this, the TRPG has a list of random early training events Witchers from all schools can have, and Bears could sometimes make friends amongst their fellow witchers in training just like members of every other school.

Once the new Bear students left their keep of Haern Caduch, most wouldn't return to winter there, unlike the other schools. They developed a reputation as being terrible to fight, and for being firebrands, often speaking very bluntly, not matter who they spoke to, authority included. Once such Witcher, named Gerd, was asked by a Duchess to help kill her father. He insulted her so badly he got a warrant for his death placed on him, though all the peasants he met spoke rather highly of him. As a result, Bears found it easiest to make friends amongst the similarly minded Dwarves and Gnomes of the Amell mountains, and people of the Skellige Isles. According to Cody Pondsmith, this is the main reason the Bears stayed together as a group at all. They valued autonomy above all else and so long as they functioned as a Witcher school, they were left alone and no rulers would try and command them. They also take their ideals of free will and apply it to others, never seeking to rule over others. They simply wish to live their lives free.

One of the original Witchers to side with Arnaghad, Ivar Evil-Eye, had extra mutations done to him by the Order of Witchers during his trial, allowing him to see into other worlds. In these visions he saw the Wild Hunt rampaging across them, conquering them. Ivar became obsessed with stopping them, and tried to kill Arnaghad to take command and lead the Bear school against the Hunt. This failed, so he and his supporters left to form the Viper School.

The Witchers of the Viper school, based in Gorthur Gvaed, were said to be the most secretive, taking contracts as both assassins and witchers. They at first dedicated themselves finding a way to stop the Wild Hunt, amassing a massive library on the subject. Fighting with an unpredictable, ambushed based variant of the Witcher fighting style, Viper Witchers employed poisons, brewed by skilled Viper alchemists, on both their swords, and a dagger in their offhand, their biggest deviation from typical Witcher combat techniques.

Vipers, for an unknown reason, eventually forgot their purpose. In his time, Letho of Gullet could only guess at why the school had been founded. Instead, they became famous for their skill at political killings, dealing with the nobility of the southern countries before Nilfgaard had even become a large-scale power.

Viper students had a different type of trial, after more grueling than typical training. Instead of any physical task like the other schools, the Viper students were given a pet at their induction to the school. And to graduate, they simply had to hunt it down and kill it, showing their lack of mercy.

While most of those who supported Ivar followed him to the Viper school, one group broke off and west east, across the Korath desert, to Zerikania, founding the School of the Manticore.

The School of the Manticore was founded by the Witcher Iwan, from the School of the Bear, following Ivar's assassination attempt on Arnaghad. They got work in the Korath desert as caravan guards, earning the attention of the Zerrikanian Queen after a deadly battle with a manticore. The Queen sponsored the Witchers of the Manticore, making them the only school to be officially backed by any government. They were experts on potions and anti-toxins, a necessity of dealing with the poisonous creatures of the Korath desert.

A unique adaptation to the monsters of the desert also had Manticore Witchers employ shields into the whirling combat of their Witcher training. Given their extra support, the Manticores held two keeps, Behelt Nar and Bailsuf Alsarea, on opposite sides of the desert, so that they might better patrol and guard those within it.

The Manticore is the final school to come from the schism Arnaghad had led. The other voices of dissent against the ideals of the Order would soon hear of these new schools and decide to break off as well to form the School of the Cat.

The School of the Cat was founded out of a response to the hatred and distrust Witchers received. They desired to be seen in a better, more respectful light. Ironically, they would end up doing the opposite. The Cat School stole away with several of the mutagens needed to make more Witchers and headed to Ebbing, and Stygga Citadel, where they would begin to experiment on human-elf children in an attempt to perfect the mutations. Its possible that the mages at this time furthered experiments on making women Witchers, but this is not confirmed yet.

Attempting to make a name for themselves, the Cats hired themselves out as spies, assassins, and mercenaries, genuinely earning them some respect from common folk for killing bandits.

In their attempts to perfect the mutations and further dull the emotions of their Witchers, the Cat school experimented harshly on a group of children that resulted in the opposite, giving these Witchers hightened emotional responses instead. These students, cast aside and left for dead, fled into the arms of a group of elves, who agreed to support them if this branch of the Cat School supported the elves' fight for freedom.

This branch, led by Gezras of Leyda, attached itself to the Dyn Marv caravan and traveled the continent, lending their services mostly to those nonhumans who could pay, while the main Cats at Stygga ended up getting assaulted by angry royals incited by their political maneuvering. This left the Dyn Marv branch as the only functional element of the School of the Cat. These Cats would train students' agility in a light, fast Elven take on Witcher fighting style, and would train their balance by making students walk a tightrope, starting low to the ground at first, but getting higher and higher each attempt.

The Cat school's breaking of Witcher neutrality and reputation for bloodlust earned Witchers such a bad name that those in the Order who most cherished their old swordmaster's knightly virtues would leave to form the School of the Griffin.

The School of the Griffin, led by Erland of Larvik, wished to truly achieve the dream of the original Order, and Gryphon, the Order's sword instructor. They traveled north to Kaer y Saren, an old fortress the Order once used, and cleansed it of the spirits of those who died in the first Witcher mutations. From there, they began a Witcher school focused on respectability and honor, believing in their knightly duties. And it worked, somewhat. The Griffins were sometimes advisors to nobility, and seen as honorable, but the prejudice against Witchers would never leave, and most would never see a Griffin Witcher as anything more than a monster playing at being a knight.

These Witchers tried their best to cushion their students against the pain of their lives on the Witcher's path, and were more brotherly than the other schools, though their knightly virtues and brotherhood were oftentimes cold comfort to Griffin students.

From the Witcher TRPG Sourcebook:

"Witcher I knew couldn’t really remember much ‘bout his past. Heh, too young to really form a lotta memories when they took him to Kaer Y Seren. Told me that the memory he did have made the mutations easier. Poor bastard clung to a memory of his pa takin’ him on a horse for a ride in the fields. Don’t know why he chose that one. Probably the only normal memory he had."

The Griffins amassed a huge library of magical knowledge, though they could only push sign magic so far, and the books were likely wasted being in a Witcher library. The library held several incredibly famous tomes on magic within, and was the envy of full mages across the Northern Realms. Despite all their efforts, they never could achieve their goal of bringing about the Order of Witcher's vision. The Griffins even had their own breaches of Witcher tradition in pursuit of their knightly heroics. An often said mantra of the Griffin school in Gwent is "To slay dragons! Tis our knightly duty!" despite dragons being largely innocent, intelligent beings who mostly wish to be left in peace.

Code Pondsmith had this to say about the Griffins:

"The Griffins stuck to the knightly traditions that the original witcher order tried to uphold. As a result it's safe to say that the Griffin school taught that monsters were the enemy of mankind and must be defeated. I don't think they would all be blindly overzealous but they wouldn't have any qualms about slaying sapient monsters if they believed it was for the good of mankind. Similarly, it's likely that they would side with humans in any conflict between monsters and humans. In a way, the Griffins' knightly virtues made them easier to manipulate than the other witcher schools. They were bound to protect humanity and thus were more likely to be convinced to hunt a monster if a local noble or alderman claimed it would be for the good of the people. This is the case with the dragons. The kingdoms and jewelers guilds of the North convinced the Griffin School that dragons were a blight upon humanity and the Griffins started slaying dragons regardless of whether all of the dragons they slew deserved it. Additionally, the knightly values might make Griffin school witchers more likely to take pity on desperate humans and work for free."

Those few Witchers remaining in the Order by now traveled to northern Kaedwyn, and started a school based on their tempered, traditionalist, and realistic view on the Order's goals. They based themselves in Kaer Morhen and dubbed themselves the School of the Wolf.

The School of the Wolf is the most famous Witcher school, known for their professionalism and efficiency. They don't kill humans like the Viper or Cat. Aren't bold or brash like the Bear, or put Knightly virtues above Witcher ideals like the Griffin. I mean, anyone reading far this knows who the Wolf Witchers are, so I'm not going to get into to much detail. They're Geralt's school. Ciri's school.

They took a balanced approached to Witcher life and as such trained Witchers who were the best adjusted out of the schools, with neither the Bear's harshness nor the Griffin's egocentrism. For this, Wolf Witchers were lauded all across the Continent.

With all Schools formed, the Golden Age of Witchers began, at first with the Bears and Griffins making peace. From Erland of Larvik's Journal (The TRPG's monster manual):

"Surprisingly enough the fracturing of the witcher order had lead to a more effective organization for us witchers. Spread across the Continent and each making more witchers independently, it was no longer the task of 60 or 70 witchers to patrol the entire Continent from Nilfgaard to Kovir. Each school patrolled their own path and when a Gryphon met with a Bear each knew they had their territory and any infighting wouldn’t be worth the bloodshed. We managed to broker peace and live as somewhat estranged brothers rather than bitter enemies"

Witchers at this time were seen largely as heroes, with their detractors' voices largely simmering underneath. With Witchers around to kill monsters, people felt safe and so ignored any misgivings they might have.

Witchers, no matter the school, aren't too dissimilar from each other, and so the Cintinent at large formed an overall opinion of the Witchers based on the traits they all shared. From the TRPG:

"In the heyday of witchers there were many many seperate schools, which all mutated new witchers and taught them the neccesary skills to hunt monsters and lift curses. While it’s generally agreed that there is a core set of skills required to a be a witcher,

each school taught its students differently and focused on different aspects of witcher training. Thus, witchers from different schools often act differently and go about their jobs in similar but varied ways."

During this time, the Schools all produced hundreds of Witchers, and each was their own person, With their own preferences and personality, despite the schools themselves having reputations for Witchers with only a few certain traits. For instance, the Bear Witcher Ivo of Belhaven fought like a Viper or Cat Witcher, but in personality was a perfect fit for the Bear School with how standoffish he could be.

They also all customized their gear in different ways, usually keeping their gear in similar fashion to their school's, as its what they trained in an were used to. For example, Bear Witcher Junod of Belhaven wore what appears to be a set of Wolf School armor he had modified to fit Bear Witcher style.

Witchers also at this time experimented with signs. The Griffins obviously focused on making them more powerful, and the Bears pushed Quen to a level beyond any other school. But the most interesting case is that of Warrit, a blind Viper Witcher who used the lesser known Somne sign as a form of echolocation.

The Golden age lasted for around 150-200 years or so, ending around 1160 when the monster populations had been hunted down enough that people's main concern stopped being the monsters, and became the Witchers themselves.

The Griffin School, refusing to share the knowledge of its library, was destroyed by jealous mages. A group of peasants and mages attacked the Wolves' keep out of nowhere. The Bears failed to destroy a powerful cabal of vampires and, when peasants rioted and came for their keep, chose to disband rather than engage in needless slaughter. The Cat's keep of Stygga is destroyed, but the Dyn Marv chapter may still be alive and well. The Manticore School failed to protect an important prince from a fire elemental, and so lost their funding and closed. The Viper refused to support the Nilfgaardian usurper and were destroyed.

If you've made it this far, holy shit, thank you! I hope you have a great day!

#the witcher #Witcher schools #Witcher lore #as if anyone needed more proof I am a huge nerd #I hope this genuinely does help people though #School of the Cat #School of the Bear #School of the Wolf #School of the Griffin #School of the Viper #School of the Manticore #Wrote this because I have writer's block for my fic #geralt of rivia #lambert #eskel #vesemir #Ciri #arnaghad #Erland of Larvik #Ivar Evil-eye #Iwan #Gezras of Leyda #Witcher Role Playing Game #Witcher TRPG

[valandhirwriter]

hello! I was sent your way by doandroidsdream because I was told you are a fellow Arnaghad Stan. I have even talked to one of the writers who helped write him (he even confirmed my theory that he is sorta like Lambert intensified). Is there any particular headcannons you happen to have for him and the Bears?

Hello there,

okay, my headcanon about Arnaghad is rather long, and not really Lambert-esque. But lets get started, all I write after this is my head-canon, even if I end up stating it like a fact. You are talking to my story brain atm. ;)

Arnaghad is Gemerrean. He was born in the red mountains of Gemerra, to one of the fierce warrior tribes of the region. Unfortunately his people's time was running short, when Emperor Hereward of Nilfgaard send two punitive expeditions into Gemerra, to curb their raiding. Most of Arnaghad's people were slaughtered, he lost most of his family this day. Captured as a child, he was sold into slavery, ending up in the grand arena of the golden city. From there he was sold to a mage, who looked for strong specimens for Cosimo's work.

Early in Witcher training Arnaghad had problems communicating, because he did not speak northern common. His friendship with Erland began, because Erland had picked up a little southern language, from his time on the ships. Arnaghad liked and was frightened of Erland, because he realised that Erland wasn't accepting that he too had been sold to the mages, and was fighting back every opportunity he got. Arnaghad also loved Erland for that.

Arnaghad in my head was one of the first six succesful transformations. (I know, in canon it's five, I have six, because I have a story about one that didn't work as planned).

Arnaghad and Erland became lovers as adults, and even after going their seperate ways, both never quite got over the other.

Arnaghad at heart is a survivor, strong, fierce and enduring. When it comes down to it, he throws all he has in surviving whatever shit he ended up in. Arnaghad has a fierce temper and a bigger heart than he dares to admit.

Arnaghad taught the bears to be strong, independent and survive no matter what. The whole "heartless bears, don't feel a thing" perception is a misconception in my brain. Bears are able to survive immense pain, push past any horror or trepidation and keep going. It doesn't mean they don't feel. They also are not disloyal to one another, but they also expect everyone in their school to be able to make it alone. Contrary to the wolves who have pack/group mentality, they fight alone. (The Lion fights alone, and so do I, to add a quote here.)

Arnaghad led his people to abandon their school when he learned a pogrom was under way. They did not leave because they did not care, but because it was the way to survive: why fight an angry mob, when you can evade them? Arnaghad told his people to split up, spread out, and let the world think the school of the bear was broken, while he secretly kept in contact with them, and eventually found a secret hideout for his people.

Arnaghad was saved from Ivar's betrayal by Erland, who gave Ivar the beating of his life for trying to murder Arnaghad. (Erland has a fierce dislike for the vipers because of that, and they are the only witchers he might not consider brothers, in my head)

Arnaghad is seven foot tall, with very wide shoulders, huge muscular arms, he's built like a damn brickhouse. He has a mane of brown hair, interwoven with braids. The braids symbolise his lost family, his people and all the battles he fought. Aside of him, only Erland remembers the names of Arnaghad's lost family, and is able to name them by the pattern in Arnaghad's family braid. Arnaghad has seven battle braids.

Arnaghad is a lot smarter than most people thing, though it took him a few decades to get into reading, and liking books. He is rubbish at alchemy, and surprisingly good with signs. Many people who fight him are surprised when he hits them with very strong and precise signs. (Side effect of too much time with Erland when they were young.)

Arnaghad is still alive during the events of the Witcher books, and thinks that the whole mess with Cirilla is an idiocy of massive proportions. He doesn't have much of a good opinion on the chain of events, and would give Vesemir a talking to, for letting his young wolves be so stupid. (If it were Erland, doing the same thing, he'd grumble that Erland thinks he's a fucking knight, and then follow him to make sure he survives this. So take his opinion with a grain of salt.)

Arnaghad has no love lost for Nilfgaard. "Torres and Fergus... they were never were the true heirs of Hereward's bloody legacy, Emhyr var Emreis is." Still Arnaghad would work for Emhyr if contracted, though he would make the Empire pay a very high price indeed.

Arnaghad likes the Griffins (secretly). On the outside he will grumble and growl about their code, their stupid ideas and what not, but when it comes down to it, he likes them quite well, and rescued more than a few from certain death at the hands of Leo Bonhart. Griffins are people where Arnaghad feels he can trust them (and was never disappointed).

Arnaghad did indeed killed his fellow Witcher Rhys, but it wasn't murder. He assisted Rhys suicide, when Rhys couldn't bear his existence any longer. Arnaghad does not expect anyone to understand that.

Arnaghad is afraid of chains, metaphirical chains, of being slave to someone. It is what made his relationship with Erland so complicated, as Arnaghad became afraid of the way he felt for Erland, feeling he could never say no to Erland, and unable to accept the emotional chains he felt tied him to Erland. Something he only worked out in his later years.

Arnaghad loves being outdoors, he was born in a tent and his happiest memories of his childhood is traversing the red mountains.

The bears: School of the Bear has no code. Because all rules get broken eventually, it's better to leave them out right away. Bears do what they do not because a code says they have, they do what they do because they decide to, because they can. Bears are much in the "because I can" department, when asked why they take the risks they do. Most bears would not be able to function without the thrill of a threat breathing down they necks, and they are entirely unable to exist in polite society.

Contrary to other schools bears rarely feel short-changed about their lives or feel unhappy as Witchers. Which is mostly because most of the schools candidates started off worse, than they had it in their school, and have little wish to live a more normal life. Their solitary path makes them happy, and the brothers they have are enough.

A bear might well save someone's skin and when there is no coin involved all he might want from the person he rescued is to be fucking left alone.

There is more, many small details that are hidden in my stories, that I cannot quite think of now. Are there details or ideas you are looking for? Aspects you wanted to ask about?

#headcanon #arnaghad #witcher

[blackberrywars]

Based on your Arnagrahd and Erland fic and that whole history behind the characters, what do you think those two are like after the separation?

Do you think they could have ever met in private?

(I loved your fic and characterisation of those two so much)

Nonnie, I owe you my life for this ask, thank you so much for sending it!! I could talk about these two and their tragedy forever.

So, starting with what little we do know about their final confrontation and lives afterwards: Arnaghad pulled up to Morgraig with a group of likeminded witchers, expecting a fight, and the Order was likewise prepared to fight him. Erland hoped that Arnaghad would just leave quietly, but they wound up fighting, not just as groups, but each other, personally. All of which left me with a lot of questions that I tried my best to fill in with that fic.

Why would Arnaghad, autonomy-obsessed loner that he is, even form a school instead of just fucking off to do his own thing?

Why and how would he convince anyone to join him?

Why did Erland have these hopes for Arnaghad, and why was he so hurt by Arnaghad slashing him?

My headcanon is basically that the history written about the Bears was mostly written by other witchers, and they rather conveniently left some things out, burned by the betrayal. If all Arnaghad cared about was his own interests and independence, there would be no reason to ally with other witchers, much less to create more of them. If he only saw witchering as a job, and cared for no witcher but himself, why bother? So, while not completely erasing his tendencies for hyper-independence and brutal pragmatism, my idea is that he had to have cared about witchers as a group, if not as individuals, and truly believed that his own teachings would help them survive. Not only that, but his reasoning had to have been good enough to convince enough of the others to put up a fight at Morgraig (since you read the fic, you know).

And that's the last question: why would he go into a fight he knew he would lose, when, again, he could have just taken his allies and left? Fighting at Morgraig makes absolutely no sense, unless he and his allies had something to gain from it, which I propose was trying to get more witchers to join their side. This was Arnaghad's last chance to, in his mind, protect witchers from being taken advantage of, and that's why he was willing to risk it, and why he charged Erland, the symbol of everything he was against.

And that's where the separation leaves them: Erland grieving, left with a wounded face and a crumbling Order to try and pull together, and Arnaghad halfway across the Continent, fully committed to building his new school. Their only common threads are the fact that they both care about preserving witchers, and that they're both entirely stubborn as to how that should be done.

What I tried to portray in my story was based off of that hope that Erland still had before the battle —he really still believed it was possible for this to end without violence. So I can only imagine how that hope would turn to anger. Erland would resent Arnaghad for, not just scarring his face, but also making his own ideal of a united witcher code impossible, and as we see from his history, he only doubles down harder. Self-righteous and just as firm in his belief of what's best for witchers, he pushes his ideal forward even as the Order crumbles around him, only leaving when he has nothing but scraps. His idealism doesn't die, not until he does. He firmly believes that with his honor code and commitment to dealing fairly with mages and royals, witchers can become the respected knight-figures they probably deserve to be.

Meanwhile, Arnaghad is kind of buried in his own problems, and it's generally always easier being the one who left. He's stablishing his school, training new boys, and dealing with the Viper schism. Despite all that, he has long since been resigned to his plan, which I also tried to portray in my story, so I honestly think he's less drastically emotionally affected in the aftermath. He already decided that this was what he was going to do, that he would have to hurt Erland to do it, and that was a price he was willing to pay. I do think he's still frustrated with Erland, for what he views as naivety and vulnerability that witchers can't afford. But I don't think he resents Erland the way Erland would resent him, because Erland's school doesn't really affect him or his bears.

All that to say, I don't think they would meet up purposely. Erland would be too bitter and proud to arrange it, and Arnaghad likely considers it a loose string he cut years ago. However, if they did somehow meet accidentally, I think Erland would probably turn the courtly manners up to 11 and Arnaghad would just shut anything he said down as quickly as possible until the Skelliger came out and they just started fighting/fucking/both again. Erland would probably slip out, angry and ashamed of himself. Arnaghad would probably be ashamed too, for failing to live up to his own ideals.

Anyway, rant (probably) over. Thank you so much nonnie, I'm glad you liked the fic!

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #arnaghad #erland #og husbands

[chamotea]

Arnaghad&Gezras 🐻🐱Commission

@justleaf THANKS YOU ☺️🥰

#thewitcher #thewitcher3 #thewitcher2 #Arnaghad #Gezras #commission

[major-trouble]

I would like to submit "a bird in the hand is worth a kick in the ass" as a title.

<3

Thank you

And finally, the last title prompt!! I hope it was worth the wait 💚💚💚💚

A Bird in the Hand is Worth a Kick in the Ass

"What we have here is a situation."

"That - that's not even remotely correct."

"What would you call it then?"

"It's more akin to a disaster."

"I think you're exaggerating."

"A situation would be something easily solvable."

"You don't think this is easily solvable?"

Jaskier barely suppressed the urge to scream. "Valdo, my dearest friend." Valdo snorted. "Unless you can somehow miraculously get the king to dismiss the charges, release us from this dungeon, and give us all our clothes back, I can hardly see how this is easily solvable!"

To his credit, the other bard was quiet for nearly five seconds before speaking again. 

"I. Have a plan."

"Oh my gods we're fucking doomed."

"You're such a pessimist." Valdo shifted from where he was sitting on the cold stone floor of the king's dungeon. Jaskier could barely make him out in the gloom, only the light from a couple of smoky, flickering torches set in the wall outside of their shared cell providing any light. He could hear the clank of heavy chains as Valdo moved, but he couldn't see what he was doing. 

After a moment, Valdo made a triumphant little "Ah ha!" sound and a warm golden glow started emanating from the pendant still draped around his neck. 

"What the fuck is that?" Jaskier blurted, leaning forward and squinting to get a better view. The chains binding him to the wall behind him prevented his moving closer to make out much more than the fuzzy outline of the small pendant. But it was definitely glowing, that much he could tell for sure. 

Before Valdo had a chance to answer, there was a bright flash of light and a loud popping sound that made both of them flinch and Jaskier cry out in alarm. 

Into the silence that followed, a familiar voice said, "What the fuck did you do to get yourselves thrown into a dungeon? And why are you both naked?"

"Lambert!" Valdo exclaimed cheerfully. "So good to see you! Don't suppose you could do anything about our current incarceration?" He turned to grin smugly at Jaskier. "I told you I had a plan."

The Witcher - who had definitely not been there a moment ago and was standing on the other side of the bars, outside of their shared cell - eyed them speculatively. Or so Jaskier surmised, he still couldn't see much. 

Before Lambert could answer, another voice broke in. 

"What the fuck is going on here?"

All three of them turned to look towards the far end of the dungeon. Where before they'd thought the other cells were empty, now they could see the enormous outline of another person - person? it looked more like a mountain made flesh than an actual human being, Jaskier mused - was leaning against the bars.

"Arnaghad? What the fuck are you doing here?" Lambert blurted, tromping across the bare stone floor to peer in at the other Witcher.

"Trying to get some sleep, what does it look like?" Arnaghad returned sarcastically. "Are you here to rescue these two idiots from their own incompetence?"

Despite both said idiots' sudden protests, Lambert laughed. 

"Something like that, yeah. You want out, too? Can't see how it's comfortable down here for you either." There was a nervous edge to his voice, like he wasn't quite sure he wanted to free the hulking Witcher.

Arnaghad shrugged. "Was going to leave on my own in the morning anyway, but it'd be a shame not to witness your … shenanigans."

Jaskier snorted. "This isn't up to the standards of our usual shenanigans," he proclaimed. "This is more like…"

"Mischief? Knavery? Skylarking?" Valdo provided helpfully.

"No, perhaps a bit of chicanery."

Lambert glanced back at Arnaghad. "Or we could leave them here and go get a drink instead."

"Lambert!" Valdo exclaimed. "You said you'd help me out of any horrible predicament I found myself in!"

Lambert fiddled with the lock on Arnaghad's cell, twisting something inside and making a satisfied sound when it popped open.

"Yeah, well, how was I to know you'd mean something like this." He wrenched open the cell door and stepped back, making room for the enormous - and enormously tall - other Witcher to exit the cramped space. "How'd you two even end up in here anyway?"

"Uh," Valdo looked at Jaskier, who shook his head minutely. "Best you not know, honestly."

Arnaghad chuckled. "I believe it involved the heir to the throne and a rather substantial amount of feathers."

Later, slipping out of the castle was made more difficult with how hard Lambert had to keep from laughing.

#the witcher #valdo #jaskier #lambert #Arnaghad #for some reason #trapped in a dungeon #give me title i give you ficlet

[dukeofdogs]

Arnaghad

Chest: The Witcher School of the Bear made their home within the frigid halls of Haern Caduch—a remote fortress nestled within the peaks of the Amell mountains. Survival within its unwelcoming walls proved a constant challenge, particularly for the younger adepts. If one wasn’t huddled by the warmth of the hearth to stave off frostbite or scrambling under pelts to stave off hypothermia, there was always the never-ending removal of snow from the courtyard… It is no wonder Bear Witchers have shown extraordinary endurance—even when compared to their peers. Eventually, many believe due to their glacial dispositions, surrounding villages banded together, agreed they would rather share the mountain with the monsters than the witchers, and marched on the keep. Having little to no bonds of brotherhood amongst themselves, they decided to part ways with both Haern Caduch and each other rather than partake in a meaningless slaughter. The stronghold itself remains relatively intact to this day, albeit hidden under an ever increasingly thick layer of snow.

Scroll 1: Arnaghad, some would say, was born stubborn. Insolent toward those in authority, he loathed anyone who tried to impose their will upon him, favoring autonomy above all else. This, in large, was the bedrock of why he went on to form his very own witcher school.

Scroll 2: While other witchers saw in themselves a duty—a purpose that transcended mere necessity⁠—Arnaghad perceived their work as nothing more than that: work. A witcher was to take contracts, kill monsters, and collect coin⁠—anything else, he would argue, was just inflated nonsense to feed the ego.

Scroll 3: Not wanting to be a slave to a code he did not believe in, he gathered a handful of like minded witchers and ventured to the Amell mountains, settling into a fortress amid the icy slopes and established the Bear School; a place where would-be witchers could be taught the practicalities of their trade, without the distraction of "honorable virtues" impeding their training.

Scroll 4: Ironically, it was the fundamentals of Arnaghad's school that ultimately led to its dereliction. For the Bear witchers, without sentiment or brotherly comradery to bind them, eventually went their separate ways, seeing no practical reason to stay loyal to each other or the master of their school.

#gwent: lore #gwent: assets #gwent #Arnaghad #Haern Caduch #school of the bear

[stillness138]

GWENT: Way of the Witcher - Arnaghad

lore and visuals from his reward tree

#gwent: the witcher card game #the witcher #arnaghad #school of the bear #gwent lore #elis exodus episode

[polskasroka]

Embers in the Pine Mist

Welcome to my new fic! Here's the basic info and the AO3 link at the bottom! I'll be mighty glad if you read it <3

Rating: M Relationships: Arnaghad/Gezras of Leyda Additional Tags: Monsters, Period Typical Attitudes, Swearing, Canon-Typical Violence, Violence, Injury, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Eventual Romance, Getting to Know Each Other, Fear, Panic Attacks, Aggression, Fantasy, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), Touch-Starved Witchers (The Witcher), Protective Witchers (The Witcher), Cat School (The Witcher), Bear School (The Witcher), Denial of Feelings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: A wraith and an ancient elven artifact make a lone Cat and a lone Bear meet. They aren't going to call themselves "lone" after that night at the cemetery anymore.

AO3 link

Enjoy!

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #gezras #gezras of leyda #arnaghad #my post #the witcher fic

[farieshades]

So having found your blog from your post on the order of Witchers I wanted to ask, am i the only one who dislikes the "Witcher's Journal" book and how the various schools have been presented post Witcher 3 generally? Its far to unfavorable to the other schools in my opinion, Making Arnaghad and the bears out to be darwinists who think the "strongest should get the contract" for instance. Witcher contracts often employ just as much brains as brawn and as such it makes it seem like we're supposed to despise Arnaghad for being a brute and a fool. I understand that it is just Erland's pov, but Gwent seems to support this and overall it looks like we're supposed to think lesser of the other schools compared to the Griffin.

I’ll be honest, before this moment the “Witcher’s Journal” wasn’t something I had really devled into, or knew existed, which is why its been a hot moment cause I had to find and read it to answer. I think it has to do with perspective for a lot of it, as you’ve mentioned, as much of this is going to be written by either Erland’s point of view, or for the Gwent cards, the creators of those (unsaid in the books, said in the games) are the base perspective.  

For the Witcher’s Journal, Erland I think starts off with trying to set the Griffin school above the others, that they were ‘more advanced’ in their technique and their moral high ground was something to strive for, but nevertheless they were still buried beneath a mountain of snow and ice; “The realms of humanity will twist these atrocities to their liking in their histories. I have no doubt witchers of all schools will soon be known as nothing more than monsters and devils… When the last witcher has fallen, and the monsters begin to creep from the crypts and caves of the world, humanity will begin to remember.” Erland is of the (correct, honestly) belief that the world will turn against his brothers, estranged though they may be, and still attempts to protect the future generations of humanity. Is this the right choice? Eh, who knows. Humanity sucks. But this is important to mention because this is basically the first page, every reader knows the downfall and end of the Griffin school, and how their grandmaster thought of it. A problem later into the book was when Rhys was cut by Arnaghad, neither of their perspectives are shown or written of, just that Arnaghad was someone who didn’t show kinship or feel kinship to the other Witchers and ‘when he learned that such a lucrative contract had slipped his grasp his blood *must have* boiled.’ Erland is making assumptions of what happened and passing them off as fact. And when Arnaghad returns to the keep its with a ‘possee of other brothers[,] no doubt he expected a fight’, which doesn’t scream ‘focus on the job aspect of being a witcher with no ties or inflated nonsense of the ego’, but more someone was wronged and he tried to gather backup for the slight given (a fic actually comes to mind in the opposite when Jaskier’s being threatened by a lord and Geralt gathers ‘a posse of other brothers’ to demand the lord back down… can’t remember the fic right now, damn, but its under the tag ‘witchersexual Jaskier’). I got off track, but anyway, Erland is the perspective we are given for this, and honestly we know more about Arnaghad than Rhys, so we know next to nothing except the ‘word of mouth’ of this event, which is definitely not the best for making decisions, taking the word of the first guy back to Morgraig. Arnaghad probably had a very different tale to tell when he returned, but wasn’t quick enough for it. 

Moving on to Gwent as you mention… In the books, the Gwent game would be hard to explain having random characters central to the story (unlike in games when everything the player is seeing needs to be something they'd also understand and add to the experience), but having 'random' characters as archtypes would (you have your king cards, your ace cards, and whatnot, just filter that in with 'monster/northern/elf/south' cards), additionally Geralt, in Baptism of Fire, plays Barrel with the dwarves and noticed how card artwork was more decorative and detailed than human cards, lending more credence to drawven made card sets for Gwent, which would work well in the idea that dwarves 1)know Dandelion very well as a lore giver, 2)constantly reoccuring figures 3)putting their own spin on things. Should we go with this idea, the dwarven perspective then influences what the Gwent Cards are saying, and it does appear more popular (in the games) in nonhuman districts. To go for more of a perspective thing, I think I'll examine Adept/Mentor Cards because that shows training methods of the schools in the eyes of the designer. 

Cat’s are depicted as ruthless, going for the coin no matter what, and their training card shows the boy blindfolded while balancing above the roofs, but what the Adept card doesn’t show is the Mentor below and watching. Now, would the mentor help if the boy slips? Who knows, the card does suggest it in my opinion but maybe that’s because I’ve read too many Cat Fics which flavour my view.

Vipers would be more ruthless in their depictions, similar to the Cats, and with their training cards, it has the Mentor with his back turned away from the adept in the background, but close enough to aid should something go very wrong in a moment. The adept is fighting the goat, and given Viper lore, this might actually be the boy’s pet he was given to raise, unclear, but given the anguish on his face, its a possibility. Which… might lend more credence to the ruthlessness if a mentor was made to watch that ‘trial’ so the pet couldn’t go free instead. 

Griffin interestingly have the adept climbing a tree to retrieve an arrow while the mentor is at the ground watching. Not much to say about it, but it does emphasise 1, the nature aspect rather than being in a town (like the cats were), also 2, strength/brawn and intelligence. No one is climbing a tree without forethought, if you step on the wrong branch you fall, but unlike what Erland would have us believe, there isn’t anything in these depictions that have moral high ground.

Bear adepts are shown catching fish, which isn’t awful depending on where they’re fishing. Theoretically it could be trying to depict being somewhere cold so its not just ‘catch your dinner’ but also ‘endure the cold water’, meanwhile from what Google is telling me, the Mentor card is nowhere near the adept, unlike in the other ones where you get hints of them being nearby, instead they are with 5 other Witchers on a hunt for a Dire Bear covered already in spears/arrows. Now, while I say that, this isn’t easily explained as the adept ‘being forgotten’ but could be trusting the adept to not only catch enough food for the others, who will need it after fighting the Dire Bear, but also, what type of food would a Dire Bear like? Ah what any bear would theoretically like, fish. 

[Note, The Wolf School Mentor is set up as Vesemir slaying what appears to be a Cockatrice, but the Adept is missing from Google, so the wolves are being ignored]

I think that overall, the Griffin school is set up to be the ones focused on knightly behaviour and courtesy and magic while the others were ignoring the need to get involved with that which inflates your ego. Geralt in particular would have made a great Griffin with his beliefs of knight-stuffs as a kid, but the wolves school… didn’t train it out of him because he certainly still has traits of it, it disuaded the belief and focused on getting the boys ready for the outer world and its harsh realities. Sure, ok, this is focusing on two different times, Erland vs Geralt, but the belief there would still hold. The Griffin school, tries to set up that they have a purpose and their brothers will support them as if the same can’t be said for the other schools, which in my perusing, there’s very little that would cause the Cats to not support one another, or the Wolf brothers… All in all, the schools are portrayed unfavourably against one another and in general. For most of the books one is focused on learning about Wolves and their existence, for Witchers Journal it’s all about Griffins and how they are better, and Gwent is a mixmash of just representation from as far as I can tell. 

#the witcher #lore #character analysis #school of the bear #school of the griffin #gwent card game #erland of larvik #arnaghad

[careful-please]

Who has lore on Arnaghad from the witchers series? I need headcannons on big grumpy old bear.

#the witcher #witcher #arnaghad

[donovaneagle2098]

Question About the Bear Witchers

Hey Witcher Tumblr! I've seen a lot of posts and even lore videos more and more in recent years that say the Bear Witchers have almost a cult-like worship of strength and a survival of the fittest mentality and that's why they followed Arnaghad. Could someone point me to where this came from in the lore, if anywhere? Because it seems like something parts of the fan base made up as a collective headcannon.

I was under the impression the early Bears left the Order of Witchers with Arnaghad because he spoke about not wanting a code tying Witchers down, and had a general disrespect for authority or anyone imposing their will on them. The Bears are called "Firebrands" in the Gwent Cat School lore for a reason, after all, and they certainly have a trend of disrespecting authority. They seem more unruly anarchists than survival of the fittest assholes who want "the strongest to get the contract!" as I've seen one lore video claim.

#the witcher #The Bear school #Bear Witchers #Gwent #Arnaghad #Gerd #Ivo of Belhaven #The Witcher 3 #Witcher 3 #Tw3 #Witcher ask #I've seen this trend in Witchers discords and 2 lore videos now #Junod of Belhaven #Skellige #They act more like a school made up of 100s of Lamberts #Lambert(the Witcher) #Lambert #I've seen it so often now it legit bothers me is the fan base gaslighting me or am I missing something?

[valandhirwriter]

Summer Bingo: The next

The entry for "Songfic"

#cake shop rarepair bingo #witcher fanfiction #erland of larvik #tumbleweedtech #arnaghad

[blackberrywars]

ARNAGHAD SHOVELLING SNOW IN SHORTS!!! ARNAGHAD CARRYING THEIR HUNT THROUGH THE WOODS IN ONE TRIP!!!! ALL THE BIG BOY - SZA.MP3 FEELINGS

Hello!!! INCREDIBLE prompt my dear, and for anyone that didn't see the Big Boys video, please enjoy on my part

Title: Two Cloaks, XXXL (Chapter 1)

Rating: E Words: 1,376 Relationships: Arnaghad/Erland Additional Tags: Order Of Witchers, Young OG Husbands, Pre-Divorce, Nudity, Domestic Fluff, Slight Voyeurism, Masturbation

Summary: Erland is determined to win the most difficult battle he's ever faced: getting Arnaghad to wear weather-appropriate clothing that properly covers every inch of his body. No matter how much the big bastard insists he's fine without it.

AO3 LINK

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Splayed out across their warm, wide bed, well-rested and better-fucked, Erland decides to indulge himself in his most favorite pastime. While he gets to spend the rest of the morning acting the layabed until the older trainees need their Signs training, Arnaghad has to get up early to clear the autumn’s first snow out of the courtyard —the tall bastard drew the short stick on duties last week, and had been none too amused when Erland made that exact joke. He can’t find it in himself to regret it. Even as the sheets beneath him lose their body heat, ogling his love keeps him plenty warm. Arni’s putting his clothes back on, unfortunately, but a clothed Arnaghad is still more than appealing enough, so Erland watches him anyway.

Linen braies, the pair with a hole in the gusset. Leggings of thick, waterproofed wool, wrapped in furs and lattice-tied around thick calves. Erland lingers his gaze there a minute longer, misses the layered tunics, but he manages to catch the curve of Arnaghad’s arse disappearing under his belted skirts. The bastard seems to know what he’s doing too, bending over his clothes-chest just so to dig out the rest. Soon enough, he’s ready to go, throwing on his winter cloak, a sturdy garment made of two elk-hides stitched together, and pushing their door open.

The damn thing slips off his shoulders. The hood barely stays on his head. The hem barely brushes his mid-thighs.

Arnaghad doesn’t even seem to notice, just ducks out into the corridor, leaving Erland to scramble out of bed, pulling a blanket with him to shield his bare arse from the cold. It drags several meters behind him on the stone floor, and he nearly trips on it, catching himself on the godsforsaken cloak. He straightens up, and tugs it deliberately. Arnaghad moves on his own, thankfully, raising one auburn brow in confusion, because he’s a thick-skulled idiot.

“Arni, what the bloody feck’re you doin’?”

His voice comes out slightly hoarse, his throat still more than a little sore from earlier, but it only makes that eyebrow lift further.

“Going.”

“With tha’ cloak? Ye’ll freeze half tae death if that damned thing won’t cover you.”

“Tch,” Arnaghad scoffs, “It’s fine, it’s not yet winter. I’ll add another elk-hide later if it makes you happy.”

No he wouldn’t. Erland knew that damn well, so he has to solve the problem, or else Arnaghad would just keep wearing the cloak as is for the rest of the winter, stoic no matter how cold it gets. He can’t exactly give Arni any of his clothes though, the big bastard could probably wear his shirt like a mitten. An idea strikes him. Quickly, he turns around, strides to the stool by the fireplace, and whips his blanket off to lay it across his lap. He finds the shorter edge with one hand, holding the other outstretched.

“Give me yer knife.”

Arnaghad hasn’t moved, still hunched to fit inside the doorway.

Erland scowls, folding the blanket in half.

“You heard me. The trainees can wait two minutes, now shut tha door, I’m freezin’ my balls off. And give me yer knife.”

“You gonna make me a cloak out of that in two minutes?”

“Yes.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches those massive shoulders shrug, displacing the elk-hide onto Arnaghad’s back. Still, he finds the weight of a knife in his hand, the hilt too large to wrap his fingers around. The blade works just fine though, sharp enough to cut halfway through the woolen blanket without fraying the edges too much —he’ll have to hem it later, but for now, it’ll do. Most cloaks are just blankets with hoods anyway, and this one will keep his love warm. A motion of his hand brings Arnaghad closer, and a glare makes him bend down so Erland can drape his invention around those impossibly broad shoulders. The blanket, cut halfway in half, lets Erland tuck Arni’s head into the split. He brings each “arm” across Arnaghad’s torso before tucking them against his sides.

“Hold this,” he says.

“I have work to do,” Arnaghad grunts, but complies, “I’ll be late.”

“Then be late, and even better, be warm while ya do it.”

Just to soothe him, Erland makes sure to twist his hips that little bit more, and bends over that same chest of clothes until he finds his prize: a thick leather belt, also made of elk-hide because Arnaghad has a trunk like an oak tree. As deftly as he can, he wraps it around Arnaghad’s waist. It takes a bit of dexterity, pressing himself close to swing one end of the belt and catch it with his other hand, but he manages to tie it over the crossed blanket ends. He takes a step back, ignoring how even that flash of proximity made his cock twitch.

It looks…… good, actually.

The woad-blue flatters Arnaghad’s tanner skin, and the drape of the wool over all his other layers makes his chest look that much broader. The belt ties it all in, gives his big body some shape. Even better, his cloak goes down to Arnaghad’s knees, sheltering the thighs that Erland adores more than he cares to admit. The furs on his calves can handle the rest. Fuck knows what they’ll do if Arnaghad keeps growing though. It’s slowed, but as far as he knows, his love has seen twenty-eight winters, well past the age when he should have stopped getting any damn taller.

“Am I free to go now?” Arnaghad asks, a teasing kilt in his bass voice.

When Erland looks up, those amber eyes almost shine down with fondness. Arni smiles ever-so-slightly with that wide mouth, almost hidden by his dark beard, and brings an arm around to his backside. His hand covers Erland’s entire arse, and he wishes that didn’t make him so hard. He fights back a blush. The snow does have to get ploughed, after all. So does he, but that can wait. Probably. Summoning all his strength, he wills his prick to calm down, because he hasn’t pissed yet this morning, and he doesn't make a habit out of making chores for himself.

“Mhm, so don’ make yerself later.”

“Hmm.”

“You’re welcome, by tha way.”

A kiss finds Erland’s crown, and with a parting squeeze to his arse, Arnaghad turns for the door again, leaving Erland behind with his knife, no blanket, and a cock hard enough to hammer nails. After a minute or so, he chances opening the shutters to their room’s narrow window to stare at the training yard so many meters below. Snow keeps drifting down, but it’s no match for Arnaghad. His Aard has never been particularly powerful, but it’s enough to wash entire swaths of the courtyard clean, pushing the snow towards the gate. There, Arnaghad flexes his shoulders, broad as the walls themselves. Erland palms his dick, running a too-dry palm over himself and contemplating if it would be worth missing a moment of this view to go fetch some oil. But the blue cloak stretches a touch tighter over Arnaghad’s back, so Erland just spits in his other hand, switches his grip, and strokes himself properly.

With a shovel large enough for a normal man to sleep in, Arnaghad shoves the snow outside the gates, and Erland knows damn well it’s piled so that if an Igni gets out of control, it will melt down the mountain. He has it down to an artform. Squats so those massive thighs flex with exertion under his cloak, stabs through the snow, and drives it like an ox plow. Rinse and repeat. By the sixth round, Erland has to spit on his hand again. By the fourteenth, when Arnaghad stops to lean against the wall and stretch, his calves feel taut as a bowstring. It’s then that the big bastard turns on a dime, staring right at him with dark, heavy eyes. The elk coat slips off his shoulder. His blue cloak, with rough edges and cut by Erland’s own hand, is still too short, but the color is lovely, and more importantly, it makes Arnaghad look like his.

Erland comes into his fist three strokes later.

——————————————————————————————

This was a delight to write, and since that video lived rent-free in my head for a good long while, I hope this ficlet does the same for you, Milena!! A part two is going up either tomorrow or later this week!

As for the cloak that Erland made in this chapter, you can make it too!! While similar versions have been found in many different cultures because of it's incredibly simple and practical design, the ruana is a traditional pre-Colombian garment from South America, a warmer cousin to the poncho. It's meant to stave off the cold of the Andes mountains, and from personal experience, I can say that it works! To make one, either follow Erland's process above and hem/trim the edges, or use this fun little tutorial.

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Taglist: @hellinglasses, @hungarianbee, @halehathnofury, @tumbleweedtech, @round--robin, @on-a-lucky-tide, @keirametzbrassknuckles, @girls-and-honey, @the-butch-of-blaviken, @alllthequeenshorses, @t4tlambert, @karolincki (if anyone wants to be added/removed, pm me and I'll have it done no problem)

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #erland #arnaghad #i am once again in my og husbands feels #they get to be happy for now #osha violation #berry's fics

[continentcakeshop]

You just don't have enough brains and courage for Roche/Ciri, stupid. strange and senseless is only Roche/Iorweth, because Roche will never fuck or love a nasty terrarist elf. strange and senseless is only Roche/Iorweth, because Roche will never fuck or love the nasty terrarist elf, with whom he is even bored to talk and about whom he does not care. Roche/Ciri at least have similar personalities and interests, and besides, according to the canon, they have the opportunity to communicate… Roche/Ciri are similar in that they are willing to protect the people they care about. Iorwethdoesn't care about anyone and only cares about his own tail. The Roche/Iorveth ship is mostly water without foundation. People love them more because they see them as a typical enemies-to-lovers ship, not caring about the characters' personalities.

The amount of effort this must have taken you to write from whatever hole you crawled into is actually astonishing. Even with all the run on sentences and spelling mistakes, it's partially coherent.

Anyway - no one cares what you have to say anymore Marina. Go write your own fics if you care so much about some imaginary characters. Meanwhile, someone gave me admin privileges and I'm going to use them for evil.

Rarepair time!

No one else cares about this pairing but me, but I think you should read them (absolutely no shade if you don't. Unlike some people, I am firmly in the ship and let ship... boat. That was not an intentional pun but now I have to live with it.)

Arnaghad/Valdo - two characters who have never and will never meet in Canon. Please enjoy.

#cake shop rec #cake shop fic #arnaghad x valdo marx #someone gave me power #I'm here to make them regret it #have the day you deserve #💚💚💚💚💚

[major-trouble]

Made up title for you: A giant made of snow

Oh my dear - you got me thinking. And then a ficlet turned into a WHOLE FIC. So, I hope you like it <3

A Giant Made of Snow

“So there’s this curse - ”

“Seems unlikely.”

“Shut up Julian, your brother’s telling a story!”

Julian rolled his eyes but waved one hand magnanimously for Valdo to continue.

“Thank-you, Essi. As I was saying, there’s this curse on Haern Caduch, where the lord of the castle made a bargain with a mage, and when he failed to hold up his side of the deal, the mage froze the castle and all its occupants, forever encasing them in ice and snow.”

“There’s always a vengeful mage, or a spurned lover, or some such thing,” Julian drawled, nonplussed by the story. “I hardly see how this is supposed to convince us of anything.”

Valdo smirked as he pulled out a scroll from his backpack, brandishing it like a weapon before him. “But I have proof!”

Quickly he moved his arm, lifting the scroll up and out of the reach of Julian’s grasping hands. 

“What kind of proof?” Essi asked patiently, smacking their brother’s hands none-too-gently out of the way. 

“This is the original contract! I found it when I was doing research in the Kaer Morhen Archives.” He gently unfurled the centuries old parchment, carefully laying it out on the old dining room table as his siblings gathered at his sides. “See? Here’s the signatures at the bottom: Arnaghad, Lord of Haern Caduch, and Phillipa Eilhart.”

They stared at the brown faded ink, eyes tracing the looping scrawl of the words printed at the bottom of the page. The rest of the document was nearly faded beyond recognition; those words that they could pick out, written in spiky cursive, named the castle and part of the terms of an agreement. The lord of Haern Caduch was to provide aid and supplies to Eilhart for reasons lost in the rest of the unreadable words scrawled on the parchment. History spoke of the mage as a liberator of Redania, leading an uprising against the cruel tyrant king and bringing about a time of relative peace and stability in the land. Perhaps this was what the Lord Arnaghad had pledged to do: help her with her campaign.

“What’s a Witcher?” Julian asked suddenly, pointing out several places where the word was written on the page. 

Essi shook her head but Valdo looked thoughtful. 

“I’ve seen it once or twice before in my research. Some kind of group of warriors, trained since birth to fight against the creatures that live in the Red Forests.” 

Everyone knew of the Red Forests. Horrific beasts inhabited the dense woods and it wasn’t until the last few hundred years that they’d been contained behind thick stone and steel walls. It was its own kind of fairytale, told to children now, about how if they weren’t good, they’d be sent to live in the Red Forests, where only brave or foolish folks still had scattered settlements. Soldiers patrolled their parameters, keeping anything from escaping into the cities along their edges. No one really knew how or why the beasts in the forests came to be, but Valdo had read that the Witchers had been created in order to hunt them long ago, before modern machinery and firearms had made it easier to contain them.

“It seems like these Witchers were integral to the contract,” Julian mused, finger hovering over the page as he traced the words intently. Despite his nonchalant airs, he was absorbed in what Valdo was showing him, brow crinkled in concentration as he carefully translated the Old English words. 

Valdo knew his brother's degree in history would come in handy: despite his earlier dismissal of Valdo’s story, he was already deeply invested.

“Here, you see? This part talks about how the lord was to provide use of some kind of laboratory in Haern Caduch as well. I wonder what that was for.”

Valdo shrugged. “I’ve no idea. But what was he supposed to get out of this once he’d helped out Eilhart?” he mused, leaning over Julian’s shoulder.

“Wealth, prestige, the usual I suppose… wait. This here? This part says something about wolves? Cats? I can’t rightly make it out. Hmmm.” Julian’s frown deepened as he tried to parse together what he could from the faded brown ink. “Maybe it was for some breeding stock or something? Who knows what people wanted all those centuries ago, honestly.” 

It would remain a mystery, it seemed, what Lord Arnaghad would have gotten out of his deal with the powerful mage. Valdo suspected it wasn’t really breeding stock, but he didn’t have any proof to contradict his brother, other than his own intuition, and he really didn’t feel like having that kind of argument right this minute. Instead, he stood back from the table and reached into his backpack to pull out a book, laying it on the table next to the parchment.

Predictably, Julian scoffed. “Really Valdo? A book of fairy tales? What do you expect - “ he was cut off by Essi jabbing him hard in the stomach with a sharp elbow.

“Let Valdo talk, then you can continue being a pompous ass on your own time,” she said sweetly as he squawked at her. Valdo smothered a laugh at his indignant expression and opened the book to the chapter he’d marked earlier. 

“As I said before, there’s a curse on Haern Caduch. The snows never seem to melt there, and there are all those snow sculptures in the gardens. They’ve been there a very long time.” As he spoke, he flipped through the pages of the book, the old illustrations telling a much different story of a spurned lover, struck by grief freezing a castle and all its occupants into ice statues. The end of the tale told of the predictable “true love’s kiss” that would break the spell.

“You don’t really think that’s going to work, do you?” Essi asked, glancing doubtfully at the last page, where a stylized woman in a flowing dress was leaning up on tiptoe to press her lips against those of one of the statues, which had begun to melt where they touched. 

He shook his head. “No. But all curses - all fairy tales - have some grain of truth, right? We just have to figure out what the right thing to break it is.”

They both turned around at Julian’s soft, “Oh,” from behind them. He was still bent over the parchment, eyebrows nearly in his hairline as he stared at it. 

“What?” both Valdo and Essi prompted when he didn’t say anything else for several long seconds.

Julian jumped, seemingly unaware that he’d said anything out loud. “Um. I think I know why there's a curse.”

“What?” Valdo repeated stupidly. “How?”

His brother smoothed his hand over the edge of the parchment before pointing to the tiny scrawl written in the margin. “Here - I think Phillipa was trying to ensure Lord Arnaghad’s cooperation by using a binding spell without him noticing. It says: ‘If thine words be false, or thine intentions undone, thy kin will feel the frozen heart of thee. Nothing shall move upon thy grounds that is touched by sun’s warmth, and only that which melts thine own heart shall move it’. That seems… cryptic at best.”

The three stared at the table as they tried to piece together what that meant. 

It was Essi who spoke first. “So, there’s this curse?” she asked, looking quizzically at Valdo.

Julian’s eyes flashed as his head whipped around to stare at his brother. “You want to break a six hundred year old curse?” His voice was a high-pitched squeak, making both Essi and Valdo flinch. Clearing his throat, he continued. “What the fuck, Valdo?”

Running a hand through flame red hair, Valdo nodded. “Yeah. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it? Now that we have all the pieces?”

Essi groaned, dropping into one of the dining room chairs and leaning her head against the back. “I swear to all the gods, Valdo, you are going to get us killed with your ridiculous schemes.”

“Hey, that was one time - “

“It was at least twice,” Julian grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Valdo paused, contemplating. “Okay, twice. But this time, it’s summer. We can drive most of the way there, and if nothing happens, we can come back home and forget about it. Another of your elder brother’s fun adventures.”

Essi groaned again while Julian huffed a laugh. 

“Yeah, fun, that’s what we’ll call this. At least there’s less chance of getting arrested this time,” Essi mused. 

*

The next morning saw them packed into Valdo’s SUV, heading through the foothills of the Amell mountains, looking for the entrance to the winding road that would take them to the perpetually snowy castle of Haern Caduch. 

Despite their misgivings, it was a pleasant drive that took them through scenic countryside and along the edges of a glacier-fed lake. Once they’d started the long climb on the switch-back road, Valdo began to feel a tension build within himself. 

He had no idea what had possessed him to look for information regarding the story of Haern Caduch, nor the supposed curse that surrounded it. He was supposed to be working on his thesis, which had to do with statistics and population data, not centuries old politics and contracts between lords and mages. How he’d even found the contract - wedged in the back of a cabinet that he’d accidentally knocked over when trying to get the door open - had seemed odd and serendipitous. That is, if he believed in those sorts of things. 

The thing was, Valdo loved fairy tales. And he loved adventures, as evidenced by the many times that he’d dragged his younger siblings on them over the years. He also had a certain capacity for getting into some ridiculous and dangerous situations. Like when he’d gotten them lost in a legitimately haunted library and had to be rescued by the local authorities. Or when Essi had fallen through the floor of a building in a long-abandoned theme-park and they’d spent a long night trying to shimmy her back out before the day-time security showed up. 

So the fact that they were spending the day driving out to an ostensibly cursed castle didn’t phase his siblings. That he was so determined to break this curse, however, made him anxious and a little scared.

Something had settled in his chest ever since he’d first heard the story and had pulled him to learn more, to go there, like he was on a string that led up the mountains to the lonely castle. And the urge to do this, to see it through, wouldn’t let him go. The closer they got, the more he knew that this was where he was meant to be, and that frightened him the most. 

When the castle finally came into view - after the road had slowly moved from the warmth of summer to the snows of winter and they’d had to turn the heater on - Valdo was struck by how utilitarian it looked. All sharp angles and auster lines, it wasn’t like any of the traditional castles he had seen in books or in movies. 

“That looks ominous,” Julian remarked. “Like a cursed castle should, I suppose.”

Valdo couldn’t help but agree. 

Since no one came up here any more, the road didn’t approach the castle close enough to really park their vehicle, so they ended up driving past it and down the road until there was a wide enough spot for them to pull over. The walk to the castle proper took them through knee-high snow drifts that felt like it was freshly fallen. The powdery snow was easy to move through, though they took turns being the one in front, breaking a path for the others. 

The castle was even more foreboding up close. Thick stone walls greeted them, though the wooden gate had long rotted away, leaving an opening in the front that they could step through. The courtyard was empty, save for the same powdery snow piled around. Nothing disturbed its surface. It felt like a fairy tale to Valdo, like they were the first living souls there in hundreds of years. 

Reasonably, he knew others had been here. Graffiti tags dotted the walls here and there, though they were surprisingly few and far between and faded like it had been years since they’d been placed. As they moved through the courtyard, they were struck by the absolute silence. Nothing stirred, and no wind ruffled their hair as they moved towards the doors of the castle. 

Surprisingly - or maybe not, considering - the doors were barred from the inside and no amount of heaving and pushing would make them open. Essi rolled her eyes at her brothers before looking at the yawning openings high up in the walls that might once have been windows, though the glass was long since gone. 

She took a running start, leaping up to grip the edge of the door frame and planting one booted foot on the stone wall before bouncing off and gripping the edge of the window ledge. Julian let out a startled squeak as her hand slipped before she managed to get a better grip, hauling herself up and disappearing inside. A moment later, there was a sliding sound and then a loud thump before one of the doors swung out towards them.

“Parkour,” Essi smirked. 

“Show off,” Julian grumbled half-heartedly. 

Valdo reached out and ruffled her hair good naturedly, earning him a punch in the arm as he walked past. 

The doors opened into a great hall, strewn with old benches and trestle tables. Light poured down from a hole in the roof, reflecting off the snow that lay in a soft, unblemished layer across the floor. The three siblings skirted the chamber, glancing up at the rotting remains of huge tapestries hung high on the cold stone walls. There was an enormous stone chair, a throne, at the front of the hall, carved with intricate swirling designs along the arms and sides, made to look like gusts of wind with snowflakes dancing through them. On the back, at the top, was a huge bear's head. Though, instead of what one would expect, with lips and teeth raised in a snarl, this one was carved to look almost wise, like it was there to listen and judge.

That unearthly pull in Valdo’s chest took him closer to the chair, made his hand come up to trace the uncannily life-like fur that covered the carving’s face. 

It wasn't until Julian's hissed, "Valdo!" that he realized what he was doing. Snatching his hand away, he hurried after his siblings, down a dimly lit hall that led out to the gardens.

Once, he was sure, the gardens had been beautiful. They still were, in an odd sort of way, and they seemed to go on forever. As far as the eye could see, blanketed in white, he could make out the shapes of plants in the vast flower beds, and the bare branches of trees poked at the sullen sky. A fountain was set near the front, water frozen in its many tiers, the stone here carved with as much care as the throne from the great hall. 

But what truly caught the eye were the dozens of statues that dotted the garden, seeming at random. They all seemed to be made of snow, packed so hard and dense as to be like ice. It was hard to make out distinct features, but they could tell that they were old - the style of dress suggested they'd been created hundreds of years ago. It was a mix of men and women, both equally brawny and heavily padded in furs and thick cloaks. Most had twin swords carried crosswise on their backs, a feature that Julian commented must make it annoying to get to quickly. 

The statue closest to the front of the garden was the most imposing. It was huge, almost like a giant as it towered over Valdo, but he was drawn to it with the same inexorable pull as the throne, as the castle itself. Its features were that of a man, square-jawed, with longer hair, though that was as much detail as he could see. The swords on its back were massive as well, and probably would have stood nearly as tall as Valdo himself once unsheathed. 

He felt himself shiver at the thought.

"So, what now?" Essi asked. Her voice was more muffled here, the snow absorbing all sound, making the enormous space around them seem smaller somehow.

"Now, we test my theory," Valdo replied, dropping the bag he'd been carrying and rummaging around inside. The others came up beside him and did the same and before long they had a relatively big campfire going near the biggest statue. 

The curse had said that only the melting of a heart could remove it, and Valdo wasn't sure whether to take that literally or not, so he had a few ideas. First, and most obvious, was the fire. The garden was in the heart of the castle, so he surmised that if they managed to melt any part of it with their camp fire, that at least might fulfil the letter of the curse, if not the spirit. 

As they sat around quietly, listening to the crackling of the flames, they waited for something - anything - to happen. Valdo expected something dramatic. A sudden crack of ice or flash of light. When all remained still around them, he noticed that despite the fire consuming the fuel that they’d brought with them, the logs blazing merrily away, the snow under and around them was untouched. The garden was as cold and lifeless as ever. 

He sighed. Time for more drastic measures. 

“What are you doing?” Essi asked as he stood and moved towards the giant made of snow and ice. “Are you - you’re not going to kiss it, are you?” She sounded downright scandalised. 

“Well, warming of a heart can be interpreted in many ways,” Julian equivocated. 

Valdo rolled his eyes and ignored both of them. Gingerly, he climbed onto the side of the fountain and leaned into the face of the statue. For a moment, he stared at the frozen features, biting his lip as he tried to rationalise his thoughts. A lot of fairy tales ended this way. Even the book he’d dug out to show his siblings had illustrated a fair maiden kissing the statue to wake it from its cold slumber. 

“I’m no fair maiden, but here goes,” he placed his hand on the giant’s chest and pressed his lips to the carved snow. 

Nothing happened. He groaned in annoyance and embarrassment as his siblings snickered.

Just as he was about to pull back, the snow under his hand began to melt, a thrumming sensation pulsing up his arm and down his spine. He nearly toppled off the edge of the fountain before he was engulfed in huge arms that wrapped around him and cradled him close to a broad chest, trapping his hand where it pressed close. He could feel the steady beat of heart - slower than his own, but still unmistakable - under his palm through the layers of clothing. When he glanced up, dark brown eyes looked back at him, one brow cocked in question. Valdo’s breath caught as he noticed the slit pupils dilate in the wane light of the sun, the slit pupils rounding.

The man’s voice, when he spoke, was subdued, but Valdo could tell that if he wanted to, the man could make it boom out across a battlefield, invoke courage or fear in all who heard it.

If giants were real, Valdo was certain this is what they would sound like.

“What have we here? A little fox in my gardens? How did you get in?” his eyes racking over Valdo as he asked his questions. Strong arms tightened as he noticed Valdo’s brother and sister. “Oh, there are more of you?”

“Let go of him!” Essi yelled, brandishing a log from the fire. She’d always been the quicker of the three of them, what she would call more brave and Julian would call foolhardy. 

A deep rumbling laugh echoed from somewhere in the man’s chest. “While I commend your courage, as you can see, you are in my gardens, and there are more of us than you.”

Essi and Julian whipped around to see that the rest of the statues had melted back to life, some of them looking bewildered, but most with swords in hand as they advanced cautiously towards the four of them.

“Now,” the giant returned his attention to Valdo, a quizzical expression on his face. “I am not as naive as you take me for, little fox. Did Phillipa send you?”

Valdo’s mind reeled as he tried to figure out what to say that wouldn’t get them all thrown in whatever remained of the dungeons of the castle. Or worse, killed outright. 

“Lord Arnaghad,” he started, continuing as the giant nodded. “You’ve been trapped here for a very long time. Phillipa froze you in snow. I - I came to try to break the curse.” He wiggled his fingers where they were still pressed against Arnaghad’s chest. “I think it worked?” He didn’t mean to make it a question, but that warm, thrumming sensation was still working its way back and forth through his palm, up his arm, down his spine, settling in his chest and it was making him panic slightly. 

For his part, Lord Arnaghad took this all in rather well. He glanced back around at his gathered compatriots before nodding again. Very gently - more gently than Valdo thought possible - he set Valdo back onto the ground. 

The ground that was no longer covered in snow and was, in point of fact, instead a soft springy green grass. All around them the gardens had burst back into colour and bloom, insects buzzing through the flowers and birds singing from the branches trees covered in leaves. 

Valdo noticed none of this. Instead his eyes were fixed on Lord Arnaghad as the giant - man - rubbed absently at the space on his chest where his hand had rested and turned to address the people slowly crowding up around them. 

In the meantime, the fire had been hastily put out by Julian as they waited to see what would happen next. 

“This isn’t like anything you read in books, I don’t think,” his brother whispered into Valdo’s ear. “Although, warming a heart with a hand is certainly a new way to break a curse.”

Valdo tried not to roll his eyes. 

“It seems we’ve been stuck here while the world turns around us,” Arnaghad addressed the crowd. “Cursed by that thrice-damned mage. She couldn’t hold up her side of our deal, so she fucked us over instead.”

The three outsiders glanced at each other in surprise. That’s not what the stories said. It looked like they really didn’t have all the pieces.

A murmur went through the crowd before Arnaghad raised one massive hand to quiet them again. “I know. But we must move on. There is much to learn about this new world we find ourselves in.” He turned to Valdo. “And since you’ve lifted the curse, that means you’re going to help us figure this shite out.”

The red-head blinked up at him stupidly. “Uh.” 

Essi took the opportunity to step forward, putting on her best I’m-a-teacher-don’t-fuck-with-me voice as she asked, “What do you think he can do to help? It’s been centuries since Eilhart overthrew Redania. Mages live a very long time, but I don’t think even she’s alive anymore.”

Lord Arnaghad huffed a laugh. “I’ve no interest in chasing down a dead spectre. No. She imprisoned all the Witchers here, leaving humans to their own devices. The Red Forests are still out there - I can feel it. I only want back that which was truly taken from us - our home.”

Valdo stared at him, stunned into silence. Were the stories about the Red Forests and their horrible beasts made up as well? What else did he believe that was just a fairy tale? 

He swallowed, the thrumming sensation in his chest easing somewhat as Lord Arnaghad looked at him in expectation. Whatever had drawn him here, whatever had made him place his hand on the heart of this fearsome man, it must be a magic all its own. He needed to figure out what that meant, too. 

“I’ll do my best,” he heard himself say. The Lord nodded and turned back to his assembled people, gruffly giving orders as he moved towards them.

Julian slung his arm around Valdo’s shoulders and grinned. “You said you wanted an adventure, big brother.” He swept his arm out to encompass the entire contents of the gardens. “Here it is.” 

Valdo could do nothing but agree.

#my writing #the witcher #arnaghad #valdo #julian alfred pancratz #essi #fairy tale elements #curses and the breaking thereof #answered

[jayofolympus-writes]

Rating: T

Pairing: none

Character(s): Arnaghad, Kiyan

Warnings: none

Summary: Kiyan is afraid and seeks shelter in Arnaghad's bed.

Written for the @continentcakeshop Valentines Rarepair Bingo

#i wrote a thing #the witcher #the witcher games #witcher arnaghad #witcher kiyan