[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]

[center]Lvl 1 (1/10) -> Lvl 1 (3/10)[/center]

[center]This was a collab done with [@Lugubrious]

Geralt gave another nod to the houndmaster as he passed by, going over the information he’d been given in his head. Out of everything, the hope of perhaps finding wolfsbane with the weekly regeneration was really his best bet, small a hope as it was. Even if he could find it, however, he’d still have to hunt down a few wolves for their fat if he wanted to make the blade oil he wanted. He’d take any information the guild members might have, hoping to at least narrow down the places he had to look for its lair, and to see if the local canine populations had been getting more rowdy. That was almost always a sure sign of a werewolf’s presence. 

Making his way to the Guild proper, Geralt thought over his options in his head. The houndmaster was right about the best way to take down the werewolf, for sure: bleeding it out. If he couldn’t get the ingredients for his oil, he’d have to rely on targeting its softer parts, drawing deep wounds and making the beast drain itself dry.

Lost in thought, the witcher found himself at the guild’s desk in the span of just a few short moments. With her faithful palico friend by her side, the [url=https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/fanonmonsterhunter/images/4/43/Bherna_Guild_Receptionist_Render.png/revision/latest?cb=20160105114843]Guildmarm[/url] handled the lion’s share of quest distribution, and the meticulous records maintained by herself and her team catalogued the vast majority of flora, fauna, and phenomenon to be found throughout any of the Land of Adventure’s iterations. No matter what the bizarre region threw her way, the bookish lady and her cats were ready to commit it to paper. After a short while spent accepting the quests returned by those returning from their morning ventures, and assigning rewards to be doled out of the guild treasury, the Guildmarm noticed Geralt as he stepped up to the counter. Instantly the young woman went flush, and after a moment straightening her hat she greeted him. “G-good morning, master witcher! What can I help you with?”

Geralt had to suppress a chuckle. While he’d normally be...flattered...by the attention, he was more concerned with the job at hand. How odd for him, to not allow himself to be sidetracked by conversation or some silly card game. It felt like an eternity since he’d sat down with Zoltan or Dandelion and played some Gwent. 

“Looking for a werewolf. Supposedly one’s shown up a little ways up North, and I was looking to see if anybody’s posted a request to have it dealt with.”

The mention of a job got the Guildmarm focused, and in an instant she’d slammed the heavy logbook into the table and started rifling through the day’s dealings. “Wolf...wolf..wolf..” she murmured aloud, tracing along the page with a fingertip. It didn’t take her long to find. “Aha!” Spinning the tome around, she slid it across the desk toward Geralt. Close to the bottom, in the ‘E’ section of the Guild’s A-G scale, lay an investigation prompted by someone known as the Monster Rancher. “Bipedal wolf, blue in color, sighted roaming the woods not far from this little castle thing that sprung up. Four Swords went out to try and hunt it, but it sent ‘em packing. Fast, vicious, and really smart. Sound about right?” 

Responding with a grunt, Geralt looked over the request. “E, huh? That’s fair. Werewolves are a dangerous bunch. Reward ain’t bad, either. Alright, I’ll take it. Got one question for you, though: wolfsbane, know where I can find it? I’ll need some to make the job go a lot more smoothly.” He didn’t add that he’d also need canine fat, that in and of itself was easy enough to get, especially with a werewolf in the area.

With an odd smile, the Guildmarm replied, “As luck would have it, scouts reported lots of unusual plant growth near the castle where the werewolf was sighted. Herbs, flowers, the like. If the Four Swords are to be taken at their word, the wolf was actually gathering some itself when they arrived. Weird, huh? Wonder if it’s adapting to the sudden shift in ecosystem…?” The Guildmarm seldom went long without thinking about her ecological studies.

Geralt’s face screwed up at that. Was the werewolf still sentient while it was shapeshifted? Could that be part of this world’s strange rules that he’d yet to fully get a grasp on? Quite possibly. “Near the castle, then. I’ll have to be careful, beast sounds clever. Thank you for the help, ma’am. I’ll be off.” Bidding the Guildmarm farewell, Geralt made his way out of the guild hall, thinking over his plan of attack. He’d have to see what those herbs were that the werewolf was seen picking, then he’d have to confront the monster itself.

While it wasn’t unheard of for werewolves to retain some control of themselves while transformed, it was rare to hear of one so apparently put-together as to gather herbs and plants, even if only for decoration. Their minds usually went to slaughter and destruction, not alchemy.

He didn’t have much to prepare, thankfully: a benefit of his nomadic lifestyle being that he was almost always ready to move at a moment’s notice. “The castle...wonder if it’s holed up nearby, then. Wouldn’t do to put itself too out in the open, especially in a world like this with hunters and warriors everywhere in sight.” He mused to himself, beginning his journey towards where the last apparent sighting had been.