The Witchers Legacy Pt 01

This is a work of fan fiction. It is set in the world of Witcher 3, and I acknowledge that I do not own any of the rights to the world or it's characters. If requested by the owners of the intellectual property, I'll happily remove it. All characters are 18+ and all events and depictions in this work of fiction are exactly that. Fiction.

I hope you enjoy.

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Battle raged atop Bald Mountain and the ringing of clashing blades chased the Weavess through the night sky; her crone form abandoned to escape the girl and her terrifying power. In her weakened state, she was more vulnerable than she had ever been. If she ran into any formidable monsters or, Dark gods-forbid, another witcher, she would likely perish.

Once she made it to the edge of the swamp, her forms settled amongst the branches of an elderly oak and communed just enough to allow her to run her mind over all the Cintran half-elf had taken from her.

The Brewess was dead!

The Whispess was dead!

Against Cirilla and her Elder blood, they hadn't stood a chance! It hadn't even been a challenge! At the height of their power, all three crones had faced that stripling girl and the Weavess had barely managed to snatch the witcher medallion and escape.

Her sisters were gone!

She did not know how to process this. Her sisters were as much rivals as relations, but the alliance they had was always advantageous. The three of them were incapable of something like love. At best, they could indulge their own desires and lusts.

Now?

She would have to stay alive, hide, heal and rebuild. The extravagant perversions and evils they had revelled in would have to be abandoned. For now at least.

The world was changing.

Fewer witchers these days, but those that remained were shaped by what they survived. The White Wolf was a terror. Just a month or two ago, he dared enlist the most ancient of vampires to help stop swarms of undead as they rampaged throughout Touissant.

Now he had brought about the end of Unseelie court.

His protege stood against all three of the Ladies of the Wood and triumphed.

The Weavess had lost the security her little coven had provided. She couldn't go home. Someone, or something, would come for her eventually, and she couldn't stay out in the open. She needed somewhere secluded to recover and to see what she could do to either retrieve, or replace, her sisters. She closed the eyes of her bird forms and listened to the sacrificed ears, now almost muted as her connection was weakened by the myriad losses heaped upon her.

It was faint and, at first she couldn't make it out, but there was something there.

It was when she opened her eyes that she realised what she was missing -- the moonlight glinted off the medallion dangling from a claw. The nearest raven hopped closer and examined it closely. Those avian eyes focused as moonlight struck the enchanted metal.

Witcher medallions had always trembled in her presence, and in truth, more than a few witchers had trembled right along with them.

The three crones together constituting a serious expression of magical might. But this medallion was not just trembling right now. It was vibrating so hard that it hummed in the presence of power that was not hers. Raw, untempered energy.

A dozen raven's eyes focused on the medallion and within a few moments, she/they saw it. Discolouring the chain was no more than a... no, not even a drop.

A droplet at best, but the power, immense.

Elder blood.

Tightening her grip on the medallion chain, the Weavess turned the flock towards Crow's Perch, the old hill fort.

The battle far behind her might have been lost, but the Weavess' future suddenly seemed full of potential.

Once the Weavess recovered from tasting the raw power of Cirilla's blood, she travelled quickly, returning to her old home in the swamp, leaving the medallion and summoning a sizeable band of nasty creatures to ambush whoever came looking.

With luck, they would kill cursed Geralt or one of his companions.

Once the trap was ready, she set off to find a place where she could recover her power fully and retrieve her sisters from the realm of the dead.

Crow's Perch. The old fort used to have a Water Hag living in the cavernous foundation below. She would be able to hide and find an energy source to sustain herself. The Weavess would have to abandon her nightmarish crone form and her more unsavoury appetites until such time as she could indulge those horrors without risk of death.

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Spoils of War.

The last of the mercenaries at Crow's Perch had been driven off just four days ago when the new Baron, Talus Hammir, better known as Velen's Hammer, was gifted the fort and surrounding lands.

A war hero with humility and origins humble enough to connect him to the people, Talus had served in the war with Nilfgaard and saved a small township nearby from slaughter. The people loved him for it, and he did his best to serve with honour and dignity.

A little under six feet, his frame was lean but well-muscled and his dark hair was now a bit longer than regulations would allow a serving soldier. His chin was dusted was free of stubble and his clothes were softer than anything he had ever owned.

Charlotte, his beloved and intended bride, had bought them for him on the very same day that he received access to his new holdings. She had quickly become the light of his life, and they would be married before the next full moon.

Charlotte had been the one to suggest they delay their nuptials to focus on making the ragged and intimidating fortress into a home. He already had all the labourers for twenty miles stripping away the intimidating fortifications and beautifying the grounds. They were even rapidly assembling a sturdy drawbridge that would make entry to the Perch safer while improving the overall fortification.

Talus stood in the old Baronesses' Garden, enjoying the little corner of serenity. The place was crowded with so many colours and such scintillating aromas that he was unsurprised when Charlotte fell in love with it too. If the garden had a flaw, it could only be the ancient well in the corner. The local peasants who knew anything about it at all, mumbled about spirits and ghosts, but in a world of magic and monsters, this was hardly uncommon.

It was odd though.

There must be a beehive down there in the darkness, which was good for the plants, but not always for the gardener. Talus, however seemed to be living a charmed life, as the bees left him alone.

He was valiant. Strong and deeply in love with sweet Charlotte. A warrior, but a wise one, and when necessary, a brutally efficient one.

Unbeknownst to Talus, he was not alone in the garden. He was being observed, assessed.

Through the raven's eyes, the Weavess recognised that this man, this young baron was unique.

Destiny flowed in his veins. Strength. Virility.

In her human form, she would claim it. She would take him. Corrupt him until she was free to indulge in that power, milking it from him constantly. She possessed a perfect physique and could prosper among humans, partaking of the lustful sinning that humans found truly addictive.

Cirilla's power would sustain her, but Baron Talus?

She could use his power, corrupt his nature, destroy his love and milk enriching life force directly from his potent manhood.

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Charlotte decided that she wanted to hold a celebration with the people of Crow's Perch to get to know them and to establish a brighter tone for the future. The Market was open of course, but the entirety of the fort was made over into a festival. Streamers and two huge bonfires. Games were played and there were performances.

Talus wandered through the crowd, dressed down to avoid standing out too much and, for the most part, it was working. He was recognisable to anyone who resided at the fort, but he had a way about him, putting people at ease by exuding honourable confidence. People liked Talus.

In the early portion of the day, Talus and Charlotte watched the players, the singers, jugglers and puppet shows. They strolled, arm in arm, amongst the stalls, buying sweet treats and trinkets. As the day grew late, the revellers lit two bonfires. Most of the visitors settled in around the fire down in the lower market, while a much smaller group assembled at the bonfire outside the main house.

Charlotte smiled shyly at her husband to be. While the others marvelled at the bright starbursts created by the alchemist (Charlotte's father engaged the potion-maker to give the event an extra special ending), she reached into a purse that she had carried all day. From it, she drew a folded piece of parchment with a wax seal which she pressed into Talus' hand.

Talus struggled to tear his gaze from her face long enough to look down at the parchment. He broke the seal and inside he found a lock of Charlotte's hair.

His smile blossomed and was cut off when his lovely lady pressed a soft, but ardent, kiss onto his lips. It lasted a heartbeat, but he could feel her lips on his even as she pulled away.

Charlotte rose and went back into the main house to her chambers with only two blushing glances his way and the sweetest of smiles.

When she was gone, his eyes returned to the fire, watching the flames lick at the night air. The problem with bonfires is that they are hot and bright and smoky, which is great for celebrations, but not so great for romantic introspection. The fierce light and heat slowly replaced the warm glow in his heart, but he continued to bask for a while.

Then the wind changed.

Smoke suddenly billowed into his eyes, blinding him for a moment. By the time his vision cleared, he was alone. Talus let his hand drop to clasp his sword hilt. There was the faintest of murmurs, drawing Talus' gaze towards the garden.

Someone was in the garden.

It was hard to see who, but Talus knew that the well was a potential danger at the best of times, let alone in such darkness.

As he got closer, it seemed like the light of the fire followed along and then rushed ahead of him as he stepped through the floral arch into the newly illuminated garden.

The girl was young, early twenties, and possessed the kind of body that was that exquisite balance of buxom and lithe. A tiny waist. Rich, dark brown hair flowing down over her face and the incredible swell of her breasts. She was dressed cleanly and simply, but on such a day of celebration, this was not entirely unexpected. The maiden's skirt had crept up a little, exposing a couple of inches above her knees as she leaned against the well.

Her legs were exposed all of the way to her toes. She had shapely calves and her feet were bare, a pair of soft leather boots on the grass nearby.

Her small, elegant hands touched just a hint above her knee as she whimpered.

"Please.. I've been stung." She gasped weakly.

From where he stood, Talus could see the stinger plainly, a dark, venomous splinter, surrounded by a livid red circle. That was no bee sting.

That was a Blight Hornet stinger. Left untreated it would, at the very least, cost the maiden the use of her leg. At worst? It could cost her everything. He moved closer quickly, aware that the venom was fast-acting.

"My name is Talus... What is your name, my lady?" His eyes travelled up to meet her gaze, but her hair made her face hard to see.

"I am P-Penelope... My lord... It hurts." Her voice shaky and weak.

"It is okay, Penelope, I know how to treat this. I promise you that you'll be fine." Talus could tell she was starting to panic, so he changed the subject. "What does your name mean, Penelope?"

She brushed the silky curtain of hair aside and Talus found himself looking into a genuinely lovely set of sea-green eyes. Her face was heart-shaped, her eyes wide and seemed on the verge of tears. Her nose was small, and gently up-turned and her lips were a rich red, plump soft looking.

"Penelope means 'She who weaves' in the old tongue." She whimpered, her eyes meeting his.

"That is lovely, Penelope. Now the good news, as I said, is that I can treat this." Talus said.

"Please, you can call me Penni. Um.. What is the bad news?" She tried to put on a brave face, but her lip quivered. Talus may actually have blushed.

"The venom is only dangerous if too much gets into your blood, but it's harmless when ingested. In fact, some consider it a delicacy and in some of the small towns nearby a few people raise the hornets to collect the venom for treats. When it's not hurting your ladies, it can be imbibed as an aphrodisiac."

While Talus 'may' have blushed, Penni turned the most adorable shade of pink. Talus was not the kind of man to leer, but he wasn't blind to how lovely the girl was.

"I'm going to have to draw out the venom." He said.

She sighed and shifted on the spot, pushing back to sit on the edge of the well.

She didn't just smile, did she? If she had, it was gone so fast that he would never be able to convince himself he wasn't imagining it. Furthermore, he didn't get much of a chance to focus on it as her hands tugged her skirt up just enough to expose the sting as she parted her thighs, planting one bare foot on an upturned bucket.

Was it his imagination, or was the sting deeper between those soft, smooth thighs than it was when he arrived?

Talus chided himself for his behaviour. Charlotte would understand the need for the act but would not approve of him admiring this girl. He sank to one knee and reached to steady himself against the well, with his hand.

And then he noticed the parchment.

Charlotte's gift, a lock of her hair, was in that hand and he realised he could do it no greater disservice than to press it against the old stone well.

Penni's eyes met his and noticed the flicker as he looked over his clenched hand. She reached down.

"A favour from your beloved? Let me take it. You will need your hand, after all, no?" She managed an adorably imploring smile.

For a moment he hesitated to let it go. But she was right, he would need to keep his balance and he had no reason not to trust her. She took the lock of hair and her voice came across just a little huskily as she spoke.

"Thank you, Talus. I'm ready."

When his hand found the rock, there was a sharp pain and he snatched it back, immediately concerned it was another Blight Hornet.

He managed not to swear in front of a young lady.

Not a Bligh hornet at least. It was just a thorn, but a crimson pearl grew on his fingertip.

She took his hand in hers, "Here let me..."

Raising it to her face, she sucked his fingertip into her mouth, the rich metallic flavour of his blood on her tongue. Her full lips enveloped his finger and her tongue gently caressed his digit, an almost teasing suction.

Penni's elevated thigh shifted, parting a little further and Talus remembered why he was here. The venom was a danger to the girl every moment it was inside her. He tugged the splinter from her and her teeth clamped lightly on the finger as she seemed to lap the stinging sensation away.

As his mouth drew close to the sting, her thigh grazed his cheek. His mouth opened wide and he sealed it over a mouthful of her inner thigh. He suckled and a cocktail of flavours rolled across his tongue.

The aphrodisiac venom.

Penni's skin.

Penni's sweat.

He looked up after a few moments, realising how embarrassing this position, this situation, must be for the maiden. She was still sucking on his finger, her eyes locking on his. A sweet smile formed on his lips before they swallowed his entire finger, before nipping him again and dragging her teeth and tongue back as he pulled his finger away, a little string of saliva connecting the tip to her bottom lip before the chased it and licked it off him.

Then she swallowed the blood she had drawn from his finger and smiled sweetly, her perfect white teeth exposed before that hot pink tongue stroked over them.

Talus loved Charlotte. More than that, Talus was in love with Charlotte.

Profoundly so.

Nevertheless, that sensation, coupled with the taste of her wounded thigh caused his cock to swell and thicken, shifting in his breeches and growing to his full, hard state. He felt profoundly embarrassed.

She took the lock of hair he had given him and separated out a tuft, which she tucked into the locket around her neck. Despite the sweet arousing venom now working a very different poisoning on his body, he began to pull his mouth away in protest only to feel Penni's hand on his cheek, stroking back into his hair to pull his mouth back against her thigh.

"Stay focused, Talus, you have to save me from the Blight Hornet venom, remember? You can still have most of your keepsake back. This little bit is for me to remember the night my savour found me." Penni almost purred.

She smiled again and gasped when she felt his tongue search for the place where the stinger had struck home. Try as he might, he couldn't find the spot again and her skirt seemed so much shorter now. It now stopped on the top of her thighs, indecently short, and yet the leather kept touching his nose. Penni began to croon to herself. Doubtless some prayer or song she remembered from her childhood as her nails scratched his scalp teasingly.

The peasant blouse she was seemed to shrink back too, her midriff exposed, smooth, soft and gently shifting. Her crooning song paused for a moment and she spoke to him in a whisper...

"Has the venom aroused you my lord? Has the taste of the venom excited your body? Has our time together hardened your manhood?" Her face still looked so innocent, excluding those earlier salacious moments, but then he felt the top of her foot nuzzle between his thighs, her toes stroking up and down his raging hardon.

"Oh! You are known throughout Velen as a truly great man. It makes sense you would have a truly great manhood, doesn't it?" She giggled adorably and her foot kept stroking at him and she held him, a man twice her size, between her thighs.

The crooning began again and the longer it went on, the less he felt obliged to pull away. It all seemed somehow... reasonable... to him. The poor girl was hurt. She was frightened. Of course she was putting on a show of bravado. Of course, his cock was hard he was suckling aphrodisiac straight from the perfect inner thigh of a total stranger.

Of course she tasted incredible. She was young and gorgeous and flavoured with a liquid lust that she needed him to lap and suck from her to save her life.

It didn't mean anything, right?

She used her free hand to pin the remnants of his beloved Charlotte's love token under a rock on the edge of the well and, when he reached for it, she took his hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing at his palm. Nuzzling her soft lips against his strong paw. Her hot, wet breath on his skin.

Penni's hips began to shift, squirming a little, and then soon a little more while Talus of Crow's Perch, beloved of the Lady Charlotte, licked and sucked at her inner thigh, feeling more heat and moisture on those thighs, tasting something even more intoxicating than the venom, finally feeling moisture against his cheek, warm wetness that formed a droplet that ran along his strong jaw to his chin.

How that droplet ended up in his mouth is not clear, but a rich teardrop of Penni's juices burst on his tongue and the two of them groaned, while she arched like a cat in heat.

The foot that was on the bucket lifted, Penni's thigh rubbing his cheek before it came to rest over his shoulder, her little foot rubbing at his back while the other one, rubbed his cock through his breeches.