Hello everyone! Strands of Destiny's second May newsletter is

he could make out a full moon in-between all the haze and the clouds. The rain got ..... slim for his tastes and she had red curly hair, which was plaited. Freckles ...
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Hello everyone! Strands of Destiny's second May newsletter is here and we bring you more information about the team, the mod, and the future. We plan to launch our newsletter on the 1st of every month detailing the development progress.

What a month! April has been a flurry of action. Our content site is stuffed full of new items, models, 2D art, stories, scripts, and that's just what we've made! Additionally, we've taken the guts out of Djinni's resources and positioned ourselves perfectly to use all the best content the Witcher has to offer. The Team Each month, we will be focusing on one of the development team members. For this month, we are focusing on Piotrek Hardy, our lead writer. Next month, we will be interviewing Aidan Nutting, our lead designer.

Hello, My name is Piotrek Hardy and I am the lead writer for Strands of Destiny. My tasks at REDFlame include co-designing the plot, coordinating the writing and of course writing itself. Another task just as important is making sure that the mod is consistent not only with the game, but also with the books, in terms of plot, setting, the characteristic sense of humour and allusions, that made Sapkowski's prose stand out. As for me, I am a student of English Linguistics at the Warsaw University, and I used to study economics on the Warsaw School of Economics. I first read Sapkowski's novels back in primary school, not having expected anything good from a book titled "Sword of Destiny". "Sword of Destiny"? Ridiculous! Why not "The shadow of the sword of destiny? Or even better - "The Mysteries of the Shadow of the Sword of Destiny". I couldn't have been more wrong. I had the book read from the beginning to the very end in 2 days. And then I reread all the previous books every time a new tome of the saga was about to appear. I've also been a fan of computer gaming since I got my first 386SX, my favourite games being Planescape: Torment, Fallout, Warhammer: Dark Omen, Myth: The Fallen Lords... And now Witcher :)

The Prologue

Unlike the Official Campaign, the prologue in our mod will not begin with an earthquake. If we could compare the mod's plot to the saga, the prologue would be more alike the "Sword of Destiny" or "Something More" shortstories, which are great stories by themselves, but foreshadow the epic plot to come. Four years after the death of Jacques of Aldersberg, Geralt of Rivia, lives the life of a normal witcher, traveling from town to town, from settlement to settlement, killing monsters for money. During his travels, he meets Zoltan, who convinces Geralt to travel to Mahakam. The dwarven homeland has great problems, which require a witcher sword. Geralt's journey takes him through the town of Carreas. Royal Town Carreas is in fact a small settlement lying on the main route between Wyzima and Mahakam, famous for its' inn. It would have sunk back into the swamp that surrounds it long ago, if not for one reason. It lies exactly one day travel from the nearest inns. And the road is dangerous. Bandits. Drowners. Kikimores. Mistlers. And worst of them all Non-humans. All of them skulking in the darkness, awaiting for a gods' fearing traveler, to send him an arrow in the back, claw him with falchion-shaped talons, rip his flesh with razor sharp teeth. A merchant too much in a hurry to stop at the inn for the night, will be just a half eaten corpse by the sunrise. The other important thing about Carreas is that it is the place where the tariffs on most of the goods coming from Mahakam are collected, in the name of his Majesty - King Foltest. This may change however, for a ferocious beast appeared near the town, attacking caravans and killing travelers. Fearing for their lives, more and more merchants decide to take an alternative route through Tranog, not wanting to risk their lives, depriving Carreas of its' only source of income and only reason for existance. To make the matters even worse, the Reeve of the town disappeared, leaving the Captain of the Royal Guard the only representative of the King. This situation drove the captain to greet the arriving witcher like a saviour. However, what looked to be a typical task for a witcher, even after bargaining a high reward, quickly turns out to be more than he bargained for...

-by Piotrek Hardy

Development Development continues fully on schedule, baring the slight delay of Djinni's 3D exporter information. The team is accomplishing half the work outside the toolset and is continually finding workarounds for any opportunities, keeping very busy. As it stands, we expect a launch of the Prologue and Act in a beta format on July 31st. Each Act

will then be launched every three months, with a final release in Q3 2009.

Strands of Destiny will be fully voiced, feature completely new environments and locations based around the country of Aedirn, and have many new features. You will visit the underground city of Mt. Carbon, home of the dwarves; or the capital city of Vengerberg, once the home of the sorceress Yennefer.

One of the features we are planning on implementing is a dynamic dialogue system. Responses made in conversations will have just as lasting a consequence as a quest. Thus, if you insult someone enough, they will stop talking to you even if you leave the area and wait a while. Characters will remember in later acts how you treated them, and respond to Geralt in kind. A development in this concept is the new Strands of Destiny talent system: Emotive, Keyed, and Indifferent. Each of these talent trees will allow a different style of "Geralt" as you take him through discovery, detective work and social networking using different strengths of conversational and relational styles. Emotive is the more emotional and empathetic... keyed is responsive to individual response and using appropriate reaction.

A first impression of using the Djinni Toolset, by Jeff Williams: At first glance D'jinni can be overwhelming. No tool bars are visible when you first open the program, just a useless webpage and the resource explorer. Figuring out where to begin can be tough; the logical step would be to go to File, then New but there are so many options, you wouldn't know where to begin. You actually begin by going to Module and creating a new adv file even though File New has multiple Module files. Once you finally figure out how to create an area and a spawn point, the controls are fairly easy to navigate. Placing objects in a room or open environment isn't too hard, although the rotating controls aren't the most intuitive. Adding resources to your module couldn't be easier but the multiple save locations can really hurt the module when working with scripts. I've had to replace my scripts on a few occasions due to them saving to the wrong location, which is why I typically save and save as to ensure that I don't lose work. Creating scripts isn't too hard once you get a handle on the basic commands and what they require. Geralt drinks a beer is a perfect starting script to get your feet wet and learn the basics of scripting.

Script Tips: Getting the Sex Scenes and Cards to work Here's a process by Jeff Williams, Programmer for REDFlame Interactive Studios Enterprise.

---Step 1: Download the program UnBIF Step 2: Create a folder called UnBIF in C:\Program Files\The Witcher Step 3: Run UnBIF, press select, navigate to C:\Program Files\The Witcher\main.key and press open. Step 4: Press the All button on the left side, click Read then Press the All button on the right side. Next press Extract and navigate to C:\Program Files\The Witcher\UnBIF Step 5: Wait a long ass time Step 6: Navigate to C:\Program Files\The Witcher\UnBIF\_cutscenes00 Step 7: Copy any .cut files you wish to use into your C:\Program Files\The Witcher\Data\Cutscenes folder Step 8: Open D'jinni and add any cutscene files you wish to use into your module from the Resource Explorer Step 9: Call the cutscene from a script. Ex. PlayCutscene("cs_nurse1_sex"); If you just want to call the card without the scene then use the following example: RunClientLua ("g_GuiInGame:ShowInteractiveSplashScreen('sp_sex_nurse1')");

--Thanks, Jeff: Nice work! This will be posted on the Djinni Wikia soon, which is here: http://djinni.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page

Featured Character Story: Red Meg "SEEDS of MAGICK"; also known as "Red Meg of the wild moor"; by CrimsonPen

There it lay in front of him - the wild moor. It was a wild moor after some other wild moor: wild moor since three days. Did he ride in circles? Why didn't it end? Thistles and nettles grew on the harder, rough spaces in-between the mushy ground. It made -SLURPwhen the horse stepped on the humid earth. Muddy water filled the horse tracks immediately. Didn't he see that old tree trunk over there hours ago? It was dusk now, the wind blew freezing cool over this wide, rough land and when it was caught in the last remains of some dead trees, it almost howled like an old wolf. His face felt numb, his fingers, despite the leather gloves where stiff. With the dusk and the last pale beams of sunlight came the haze over the marsh. The mist didn't improve the situation. It only made it worse.

Softly he pressed his thighs against the horse's belly, carefully it took one step after the other, and sometimes it sank in a few inches and had to struggle to get out again.

This ground was really tricky. He had seen how some of the small wild ponies, which inhabited the land, got caught in the moor. The moor lay there - silently - and waited until the very moment when an incautious creature stepped on the wrong spot of it, then it started to feast. The pony would sink into it, without a chance to get out of it again. It would fight against the moor, for sure, but in the end its power would decrease more and more, and then the moor would win. The last remains would be some bubbles on the surface, but not for long. The moor later would pretend, with all its innocence that nothing happened here.

To drown in this rotten mud wasn't such a nice fantasy. He rode on, only to realise, he really had been here before - hours ago. Nothing to hide near here: no shelter against the biting, icy wind.

The mare got uneasy. He climbed down of it and took it by the rein, now, to all of his mischief, the rain set in, too.

Finding a shelter was useless here, only the wide plane with its shrubs, dead trees and much more of this tricky ground lay in front of him.

Carefully he searched with every step, where the ground was a little bit more solid, then he led the horse on. This must have been going for some more hours; as he looked up, he could make out a full moon in-between all the haze and the clouds. The rain got stronger now. He already was wet to the skin, so was his horse.

There must be a way out of here... there must, there must...

Then he saw something appeared and disappear behind the scrubs, just only a shadow, but as fast as a weasel. He put the reins on the mare's neck and assigned it to stay where it was.

With keeping the eye on the very place the creature had showed up seconds ago, he took the sword from its scabbard. Only a cautious measure, probably it was just an illusion, because he had not slept for several hours. He sneaked to the scrubs... took a closer look... as he had assumed - nothing. A sound of torture and pain made him suddenly turn around and forced him to run back where he'd left his horse. When he arrived there, he was shocked to see his loyal mare, sunken deeply into the mud. The poor creature struggled with all its power left to get out of the deadly morass.

He had to look out, not to get caught into the mud himself, so he watched where he stepped, as he tried to reach the mare's reins. Finally, he could grab them with some effort, but the more he tried to help, the more the horse sank in, dragging him deeper into this rotten dirt, too. With all his strength he pulled on the reins and tried to placate the mare. Sure, all would become fine again... sure?

The fight against the moor was 1:0 in the end - one could say, the moor had an enormous head start and just won because of that. Rather despaired he held the mares snout for a few moments, patted it's forehead and the "good bye old friend"; was rather unison with the sound of blurb the moor made, when it took the rest of his four-legged pal.

He stared down onto the few last bubbles which still rose from the now more or less calm surface. Well, it was not the first time he had lost a horse, and it's much harder, when it gets eaten by something, or you have to kill it yourself, because it broke its leg. Nevertheless, this made him as sad now, as it made the situation worse.

He drew back to an old tree trunk and sank down to his knees, it was not a good shelter at all -it didn't keep the freezing rain and the cold wind off. He not even could light a warming fire. Don't fall asleep, he thought. That wasn't easy, too, as he was now pretty tired after this long, strenuous struggle in the mud. His legs felt like lead, his hands had gone numb a long time ago. Cold streams of water were dripping down his hair and nose. He knew, he mustn't fall asleep here, as he could easily die here caused by simple freezing to death. Don't fall asleep... you must go on... Don't fall asleep...

Don't fall asl... Red Meg stuffed some more wood into the potbelly stove, which stood in the middle of her cottage. She stirred a bit in the ashes with the poker, then closed the metal lid again. The fire burnt high and spread a cosy warmth. She turned around again to her bedstead and looked down onto the man who lay there onto her sheets. What a fool he must be, trying to take a nap outside in this cold rainy night, she thought. Seventeen, her dog (she wasn't very imaginative with names), had found him hours ago, when she had to go out there for one of her lambs. Crazy beast, why had it left the stable on a night like this? And why did it run so deep into the moor? She badly had to repair the stable door, in order not to loose another lamb or one of the sheep. Unfortunately, she hardly was a carpenter. The wood of it was rather rotten, it wouldn't hold for long now... The man looked strange to her - although he was probably only in his late thirties his hair was white as snow. He surely never was a pretty boy; but a large, dark pink scar which ran down from the left side of his forehead and over the left cheek didn't help much in improving his features. He was wet to the skin and dirty from the mud when she arrived with him here and so she had to undress him, too, what only resulted in showing her more scars. She only hoped, he was no bandit or an escaped prisoner, as she wouldn't have stood a chance against him, brawny as he was. Did he have a fever? No, he only slept. What the heck did he want in the moor? Worried as she was, she took the two swords she found on him far away from the bedstead. From one hilt, the fierce head of a wolf stared at her. The blades where heavy, did he really carry those around with him? No wonder he was tired as a stone... And what for where those little bottles, which where adjusted to the strange leather armour? She took a suspicious look at them, a coloured fluid was in them. Carefully she hung the leather jacket over a chair. She opened the satchel, with a gush some water came out of it, and she removed some now wet herbs from it. The same procedure was used on the heavy boots, what made a pretty puddle on the planked floor. She put them close to the stove. Soon, all what was on him hung or lay there in front of the stove, waiting for to get dry again. Only the silver necklace with another fiercely looking wolf's head, which was around his neck, she didn't dare to remove, she shuddered, when she encountered it beneath his roughly weaved shirt. Now the grim wolf head heaved up and down his breast with every breath he took. Meg shoved away the curtain and risked a look outside. It was still raining and the wind clattered against the windowpanes. But soon dawn would come...

The events of this night had made her hungry, so she decided to prepare some soup. Why not? If her late guest should awake, he surely would be hungry, wouldn't he? While she cut the carrots and onions her eyes always wandered from the swords in the corner to the strange looking man on her bed. Did he still breathe? She tiptoed closer to him, and listened - there it was, a soft snoring. Good. She got back to her work, filled some water into her cauldron and put it onto the stove. Could she risk going into the stable for eggs and one of the chickens? Why not... he was asleep, wasn't he? Silently she sneaked out and soon she was back with a basket full with eggs and a dead, naked chicken. Skilled, the chicken was fully cleaned and hung by a hook into the now boiling water, the vegetables were added, some salt and pepper - but not too much. Sometimes she stirred with a wooden spoon in the steaming concoction. While she cleaned her crockery, she always interrupted the work to have a look at her guest. Did he move? Should she wake him? Maybe he'd be angry then? Didn't he just move his nostrils? It smelled really fine now in the small cottage... She drew a bit closer. Yes, there it was again, the nose twitched. Shyly she risked a much closer look. And suddenly she stared into two glistening yellow cat eyes. Shocked she fell back onto her buns, and tried to get away from the bed. Slowly the man turned around in the bed, and looked down to her on the floor. In her panic, she had grabbed the poker. But she was so shocked, she couldn't find a tight grip to it. "Oh, p-p-p-lease, don't take my soul!", she stuttered. The man's wild creature eyes twinkled. Then he did something, unexpected... he smiled. This made Red Meg just look more and more puzzled. Still a bit panicky, she grinned desperately, then her eyes went to and fro the swords and the man. Tears had stained her face, and came running down her cheeks. She didn't want to die - at least not right now! Meanwhile he sat on the edge of the bed with the blanket drawn decently over his private parts. She blushed, when she thought about that. She didn't have much chance seeing a naked man in her life and now there was so much of it... Suddenly he stood up, wrapping the blanket around his waist. Then he drew nearer to the frightened Meg. With dilated eyes she stared at his closer and closer coming shadow.

Then she shut her eyes, when he was above her, but inquisitive as she was, her left eye twinkled and she realised, he held his hand stretched out for her to grab. Hesitatingly, she raised the lesser shaky hand and he pulled her up again to her feet. The poker fell on the planked floor with a clattering sound. He was quite huge, something she must have missed, when she'd dragged him inside with the help of Seventeen and the totally drunk Mister Bowler, who lived two miles from her cottage. Mr. Bowler insisted to stay with her, first, but he decided otherwise, when she gave him some coins for some more booze and a box of tobacco instead. He gladly thanked her then, and shoved himself through the narrow door, singing "thirteen jolly men on the king's sinking ship"; and disappeared in the moor. She still was frightened and shuddered, but also couldn't loosen the grip of his hand. There it was again, the strange feeling she had before, when she had touched him the first time. A small tickle... "Don't be afraid... I won't harm you," the man spoke in a deep, but warm voice. Red Meg just nodded, still staring at him in awe with her tear wet eyes. "I must thank you, my horse drowned in the mud and I lost my way in the wild moor... You saved me from freezing to death out there... and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd stop squeezing my hand this firmly right now" "Oh... pardon me...", Meg reluctantly eased her grip. "Where am I here?" "Th-this place i-i-it´s called Red Meg's grove, stranger, and I'm Meg... and I'm a bit frightened right now. I mean it's rather rare to have the de-de-devil in your home and he's so polite... you must see, I'm quite a bit shocked... no I'm in panic right now, and somehow my cauldron is boiling over at moment and I can't help but staring at you... I only got the fe-fe-feeling fainting would be the right reaction now... Pardon me, I didn't ask for your name... Mr. Devil... how uncourteous of me...", Meg just swooned this very moment, and fell into the man's arms. A few moments later a small bottle was under her nose and she woke up again from the scent which came from it, still tightly grasped in his arm. "Wake up... so is it fine... do you feel better now?" "Um...", she realised, the devil was still there in her cottage. Her granny always said, you never shall invite him, then he'd stay and bring great mischief. Fantastic, she just had done that, but did the devil come on a horse? And when he did, why didn't he watch it any better? Why was he so clumsy to let it get caught by the moor?

Well, death also had a horse, too, didn't he? At least in the stories, people told. Okay, this devil didn't have a tail nor horns, and also the goat leg was missing, but maybe he could change his shape, too? "I can assure you, I'm not the devil nor any other devil... Meg," the man told her, but her head only felt like stuffed with a lot of wool. "My name is Geralt of Rivia, I'm a witcher", Geralt added. "Uh...," somehow this was too much for Meg, as she started to pass out again. He just could keep her conscious, in softly patting her cheek. Witcher, where had she heard this before? What did a Witcher do? Hadn't granny told her about those men? Suddenly the wolf around his neck didn't seem so fierce at all, her fingers sullenly played with it, but let off it, when she realised his puzzled stare. Wolves - she never liked them much, because they often came for the sheep. "I thought only women can be witches, you not even have a pointy hat..." she muttered, but suddenly interrupted herself, as she realised how stupid it sounded. Then she discovered she still sat on his lap, his arm around her - finally, she stood up quickly, quite embarrassed. After building some distance between them, she looked for the soup, nervously stirred with the spoon in it and then she turned around again. There it was anew, the smile. He sat there onto bed, with the blanket around his waist and smiled. She thought, he didn't do that very often, and she was right. "Well... Meg, I never liked pointy hats very much, actually. And they're in the way, at work", Geralt said a bit amused. "I know certain basics of magic, but I'm not a sorcerer... at least technically. I'm more in with the sword-work, although I'm no knight either." "Oh, I'm sorry I must sound so stupid for your ears," Meg proclaimed and stared down onto her shoes. "Not at all- it's only surprising for me. I didn't want to scare you, it's not that easy to get used to me, I know that. Most people fear me..." "Oh, I feel quite comfortable again... And I'm just only a bitty scared right now... what about some soup?," her face brightened a bit. "That would be fine, thank you." She took two bowls from the rack over the sink and filled them with the hot soup. She also took a bread loaf from the cupboard and put it onto the table. The witcher, still clad in the blanket, sat down on the chair next to the stove. Gladly he took the bowl from Meg, and started to eat. He was pretty hungry now, since the incident with Fry several hours had gone by and he was also rather hungry then. Meg sat down, too. His eyes examined Meg quite explicitly. She was only about twenty, a bit too

slim for his tastes and she had red curly hair, which was plaited. Freckles were on her nose, with her huge green eyes she stared at him, still frightened. He not only could see, but also smell it. Damn it, she looked innocent, this girl had no experience at all. Was she living alone here? Only with the sheep he heard bleating somewhere on the outside? To keep her stutter away, she looked away from him, before she started a new question: "I nearly don't dare to ask, but what happened to your eyes? I don't want to be too inquisitive, it's only that they frighten me the most of it all...I mean, they are not men's eyes..." "Meg, tell me, can you see what's over there next to the crate by the window?" "Your swords...", she muttered, slightly ashamed, because she had touched them. "But only because you know they are there, don't you?" "Yes... I mean, do you want to tell me, you also can see them over there in the gloom?" "Like in bright day light" "I knew this is some magic!" "Not at all, I'm a mutant, Meg. A long, long time ago, I was human, too." "Oh..." "Are you still scared?"

"Well," she looked up again, straight into his yellow cat eyes now, "I´m not sure, what I should think... this is all a bit... new to me and it sounds strange for my ears." "I guess so... you don't have to understand it. What counts is, we're here, no matter what we are, isn't it?" "Right... that's true... oh, I could need some strawberry wine now, after this exciting night, what about you?" "Why not..." "It's homemade, like everything."

"Do you live alone here?" "Oh, no -Seventeen and the sheep live here with me. I got a few chicken, too, but somehow I don't reckon them to the family. Granny lived here with me before, but since her death, I'm running it all myself here." "I see... who's Seventeen?" "Oh, you must be thankful - he found you out there. He's my sheepdog. Unfortunately one of my lambs disappeared and is gone now..." "Does this happen very often?" "Well, sometimes the wolves claim a lamb or a sheep, but the last weeks it's all a bit unusual. It's as if the poor beasts are lured outside by something and not even Seventeen can keep them off it. I cannot afford it to loose another one - it was the fifth lamb in three weeks now." "Hmm, maybe I'm not here in vain..." "I don't get you..." "Before my horse died in the moor, I thought I've seen something disappear in the haze. I was pretty tired then, so I thought it was just an illusion, now I'm not so sure anymore about that." "Um... well, possibly - there are many vile creatures out there, but usually they keep away from Red Meg's grove. Except the wolves of course, but they don't come that often and only when the poor beasts are hungry. Come I show you something." He followed her outside, his hand still clung to the glass with sweet strawberry wine for a moment. He took another sip, then he put the emptied glass back onto the table. With some effort he could keep the blanket in the right position. He eventually managed it to keep it around his waist - he didn't want to embarrass the girl any more. They just went out to the lawn in front of the cottage. Geralt accidentally kicked one of the madly grinning pottery garden dwarves, which stood around a small pond. It had a fishing rod and fell onto its chubby face. He grabbed it by its pointy cap and put it back in its place. But somehow the stupid thing didn't want to stay there and finally dropped into the pond. Had Meg seen it? Okay, just don't draw any more attention at you and pretend it was the cool wind, which relentlessly blows over the wild moor. He nearly stepped onto the next small guy with a pushcart, when he thought that. Then he saw what Meg meant. The hut was built onto a witch's protection circle. So, what ever the creature was, it lured the sheep out of it. The cunning monster knew it can't enter the circle.

He nodded, then they went back inside. "Meg, could it be your grandmother was a witch?", he asked her, when they were on the doorstep. "Why that?" "Just a question - because your cottage is standing on a protection circle." "Well, maybe... I don't know it... she was good with herbs and the sheep." "Hmm... some would also consider this as a kind of witchcraft," he sat down again. Somehow he started to feel stupid with only the blanket. "Did my clothes dry in the meantime? I start to feel a bit uncomfortable only with your blanket on," he somewhat meekly added. "Well, let me check... it's still a bit damp, but if you insist...," She unpegged the shirt, the rough undergarments and his leather trousers from the clothesline. He took his clothes thankfully back, turned around to the bedstead and placed all of it on it. Then he loosened the blanket in order to get dressed, this very moment, Meg blushed and turned around quickly, just to face a rather dull mirror in front of her, which didn't cover much. A strange feeling made her almost sink into the ground with embarrassment. She closed her eyes for a wink, then she assiduously pretended to clean up the table, what didn't work so fine, as she dropped parts of the cutlery several times onto the floor. "I'm ready, so far...", he suddenly said. She turned around back to him, who now wore the tight leather pants and the loosely closed linen shirt. The pants also really didn't conceal much... Why did they have to be cut this tight? Wasn't that uncomfortable? Uh, her thoughts had gone astray... She forced herself to a smile, but didn't manage that well. "It's still dark, so we could stand a chance in getting this beast, which comes for you sheep," he said. "What are you up to?" she asked a bit puzzled, when he unsheathed the sword with the fierce wolf head from the scabbard. "Work," he shortly answered, as he fumbled in his pockets for the wedge stone, but eventually found it near the stove on a crate. Diligently he sharpened the silver blade under the expectant eyes of Meg.

"You'll have to help me, Meg. I need bait - one of the lambs to lure it out." "I can't allow that!" "Trust me, the creature won't harm it, I'll be looking to that. I promise" "Uh... agreed...," she conceded ,"I only hope you know what you're doing..." "I got some experience in that, so don't worry," he lay the silver sword on the table, then he got into his leather shirt, which also was still a bit damp. He didn't mind, he could get dry after he'd slain the creature. Then, to the amazement of Meg, he picked one of the little bottles which were hanging on the armour, pulled the cork out of it with his teeth and drank the fluid. The potion worked immediately, making him grimace with pain for a moment, to Meg's surprise. "Get me one of the lambs and a rope, you better stay inside. Don't get out at all cost, what ever you may hear, will you?" She did as he'd assigned her, and went into the stable. The sheep stared at her, but their thoughts soon returned to the grass. Meg put a rope around the neck of one of the lambs and lead it out in front of the stable, where Geralt waited, fully dressed now, with his spiked gloves on and the sword in his hand. "You can bind it to the pile over there, where I usually keep the ram," she said, then she turned her back and returned into her cottage. He picked the bleating lamb up and carried it to the wooden pile which stood several feet away from the protection circle. Just the right place. He bound the rope onto the pile, the lamb stared at him while he patted it softly on its woolly back. Then he retreated behind the fence, ducked down and waited. A long time, nothing happened, only the wind blew, the rain eased a bit and the first light of morning appeared on the horizon. Damn sun, he only hoped it wouldn't rise too fast now. A faint cry of an owl could be heard somewhere out of the moor. Was there a shadow moving over there? No, just imagination... No more distraction now, he must concentrate. The lamb meanwhile had decided to stay quiet, it just lay down into the wet grass and took a nap. Shit, bleat you silly beast! Geralt thought. Then he took a small pebble and threw it at the lamb's buttocks. Shocked the lamb jumped up and bleated. Fine... Bleat, bleat for you life... He heard the owl again, then some birds flew up from the moor, scolding at something, what moved through the thicket. This time, it was no imagination. Something drew near to the place where the lamb stood and bleated.

Fine, come out, I'm here, he thought. Suddenly the scrubs parted, and a large, shaggy creature stepped into the clearing. It careened like a rather pretty tanked-up sailor, but Geralt knew it also could raise its pace. It had enormous claws, which hung from strong arms, which almost touched the ground. An ugly, warty snout came from its head, with pointy teeth. As it drew near, it faked the sounds of the sheep and the lamb started to listen, then the dumb animal turned around and walked straight into the direction of the beast. Geralt didn't waste time and jumped between the Grizzler and the lamb. He parried one strong blow of the monster and also could hit it several times, but as he had suspected, the creature was sly. And it could also be fast... Geralt tried the best to get the beast away from the now totally shocked lamb, which had started to run in circles around the pile. A mighty blow from the monsters claws sent him to the ground, he winced with pain, as it had scratched him straight over the chest. He smelled the sweet scent of blood, his blood. His eyes got wild and he attacked the beast anew, giving it some cuts it wouldn't forget. Unfortunately, he got to close to it again, and another blow of the creature's arms threw him into the fence. Heavily breathing, he jumped up again. The lamb was now totally tangled up in the rope. Fast as he could, he was at the beast again, but now he built some more distance between his opponent and himself. He needed some concentration, just for a few seconds. He'd to make sure he didn't hit the lamb, then skilled he drew the Aard sign into the air which punched the beast into the scrubs. This gave him some additional time, to prepare. He picked another potion, swallowed it quickly and flung the small bottle into the grass. "Come...," he said, and the beast came. The fight started anew, much harder than before. The lamb made a faint bleat sometimes, when Geralt and the Beast came closer to it. Soon, Geralt and also the Grizzler were quite exhausted. This really was one mean beast, he thought. I must get the chance to cut its jugular, there it's most vulnerable. Unfortunately, me too... The beast only spent it's thoughts on how it could get this two legged troublemaker away from its meal? And: Was this two legged stinging lamb also as tasty as the four legged ones? Now a series of parries, dodges and hits followed, the beast stumbled, but still wasn't down. It just used one inattentive moment from Geralt, to hit him again to the ground. This time he not only crashed into the rest of the fence, which fell like a timber, but he also smashed all of the remaining madly grinning pottery garden dwarves through this action.

Quite stunned, he could see from this distance, how the beast turned to the helpless lamb now. His vision had gone blurry, as his head had hit one of the fences posts. A tenacious pain rose in his shoulder as he tried to get up. Fuck, sometimes he just hated this job... The beast drew nearer, it almost could touch the lamb. It drooled and smacked. This would be a fine feast, at least this was something it would think if it could think. Geralt struggled to his feet, still dizzy, he tumbled, with the sword in his hand a few steps, but fell onto the ground again. He now was sure, he couldn't protect the lamb anymore... Well, he couldn't ... but suddenly he heard a loud, angry but familiar voice coming from behind the beast: "Keep your dirty claws from my lamb, arsehole!" Then, the beast screamed in pain, and sometimes Geralt could make out a swinging poker and something fiery red, which relentlessly smacked the beasts back, then also the mug as the beast turned around to face the new opponent. The monster regurgitated blood onto the grass, it tumbled and tried to get away, but the poker didn't stop. "Stealing my lambs! Bastard!" Meg screamed while she repeated to hit the creature with all her strength. The grizzler's eyes dilated in shock and it suddenly sunk to its knees, as the spike onto Meg's poker entered the beast's skull. It vomited more blood and finally collapsed into the grass in front of the lamb, which stared in awe at this strange looking, now dead sheep. Meg dropped the poker, calmly untangled the lamb from the rope and heaved it softly up. It stupidly bleated, licked her cheek and shuddered a bit from the cold air. Its thoughts had long gone back to teat and grass. Meg stepped through the grass, drawing closer to Geralt, who still lay there stretched out on her front lawn. "I'm sorry...," he mumbled, while he tried to get his vision right again. "Well, I guess I can repair some of them with some glue...," Meg answered. Puzzled, he grabbed for the hand, she held out for him. He looked awful, blood ran down his shirt, and he needed the support of Meg to make it into her cottage. He had really messed this up and only hoped, the news about his failure wouldn't

spread. Meg looked for his wounds, which were not too bad. And as good as she could, she repaired his leather armour and the shirt, too. "Don't be upset, shit happens, granny always said!" she happily mentioned, when he sat by the stove again and stared into the cracking fire. "Yeah, but this almost got totally wrong... and I could not keep my promise..." "Ah, but the lamb's alive, isn't it?" "Yes, true, but not because of my doing..." "So why are you that upset then, it all has a happy ending, doesn't it?" "Yes... and no... " "Ah, come on. What counts is, we're here, no matter what happened, isn't it?" "Witty answer... I did hear something similar before, didn't I? I should keep that in mind... it's just not that easy for me to cope with the fact, a slim thing like you defeated a seven feet Grizzler only with a simple poker and the Witcher failed with his razor sharp sword." "Oh... it wasn't my intention to embarrass you... I just saw my lamb this very moment and you did a good job before in making the beast pretty tired..." "Thanks... this sugar-coats the humiliation a tiny bit..." "Don't you dare making me angry again, Geralt! Better take some tea now!", it suddenly burst out of her. The whole cottage started to shake, the fire licked high though the grill of the stove for a short moment, urging Geralt to lean back on his chair so he didn't get burned - and then a cup fell from the cupboard and crashed to a thousand pieces on the stone floor. Both silently stared in awe at the broken cup, then they looked at each other. "Do it again...," Geralt said. "Doing what?" "Get angry..." "Uh..." "Did something like that happen before?"

"Well, once I had to deal with a tax collector. I paid my tax, but he pretended I didn't. He then told me, he could also think about another payment. I hit him, when he tried to touch my... my...," she blushed but continued: "well, then despite I told him, he should leave now, he dragged me onto the floor and ripped my dress open! I never got so humiliated in my life! My fear suddenly grew into hatred and anger. This day cost me a lot of crockery and the door has a crack from the axe now." The tax collector even took some knives and forks with him, when he stumbled out of my cottage - can you imagine this? But he didn't show up again since..." "Ouch..." "Anything wrong?" "Not really, but I'd assume there's some magic within you." "Magick? In me? How ridiculous!" He grabbed for the wolf medallion on the silver necklace and pulled it out in front of his now mended shirt, it trembled slightly in his hand. He let it dangle and touched Meg's hand, leading it to the fierce wolf's muzzle. Her fingers hesitated a bit, as if the wolf could try to bite her every moment, then the tip of her index finger softly touched it. "It vibrates..." "Yes, it can detect magic and also warns me when evil beasts are around. You should keep those powers a secret as far as it is possible for you, Meg."

lap.

"I'll try to follow your advice... It's really astounding...," she folded her hands in her

"Not for me... because I've seen things in my life, you'd never dream of..." "Will you tell me about them?" This very moment, a rooster crowed. "Yes, one fine day, but not to-day. It's time for me to leave." The rooster crowed a second time. "Oh, what a pity... but I'm sure you're pretty busy... and it's a long way without a horse..." The rooster crowed a third time. "Well, I'd appreciate it - no I'd be grateful - if you'd tell me how to get out of the moor..."

"That's quite easy - you follow the pebble road behind my hut to the south until you see Fiddler's Pub on the left-hand side. Then, there's a bridge, you can't miss it - after you crossed the bridge you follow the path through the forest. After thirteen miles, there should be an Inn." "Should be?" "Well, sometimes the bandits burn it to the ground... Either there will be the Inn or a heap of ashes..." "I see...," he turned to the doorstep. "Godspeed, Geralt... thou shall be blessed..." For a short moment, he thought about turning around again and kissing the girl, but then he decided better to hit the road. Somehow he still had the story about the unlucky tax collector in mind, and he also didn't need anything from the cutlery. Red Meg followed him to the doorstep and watched him, until he disappeared behind the thickets of brambles, which seamed the road.

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Copyright REDFlame Interactive Studios Enterprise (RISE Gaming) 2008.