#eyehead

Chapter 8 of “To kill or not to kill”

Published: 2022-08-05 Completed: 2023-04-08

After two more days before noon it finally stops raining and the sun comes out. At first, the forest is swathed in dense mist as the excess humidity of the previous days evaporates in the warming rays of sunlight. However, with quickly rising, summerly temperatures, the fog soon dissipates, at least in the places where the trees do not grow too densely for the sunlight to reach the forest ground.

The Witcher's company take advantage of the favourable weather conditions. When they come across a sun-flooded clearing by the track, Zoltan Chivay, the dwarves' leader, gives a sharp whistle ordering a break. A longer break than usual at this time of day, Cahir suspects, as the women start to undress all the children and themselves and drape the branches of the surrounding trees with their wet clothes so they would dry in the sun. While the children are running around the glade naked and happy, the women dressed only in their shifts hide shamefully in the bushes and prepare the food. Most of the dwarves sit down near the wagon and start playing their inevitable and noisy card game. The other dwarves, including the long-nosed one who looks more like a gnome than a dwarf, and Milva disappear somewhere in the woods, maybe to find or hunt some food. Cahir will have to be careful not to bump into one of them while they are gathering mushrooms or whatever they are looking for. In the meantime the Witcher sits himself down close by the card playing dwarves and watches, obviously intrigued by the game. It sounds complicated but like a lot of fun. The Sandpiper has occupied a particularly sun-kissed spot to take a nap. A good idea.

Cahir finds a sufficiently sunny spot between the bushes to spread out his wet cloak to dry and flops down against a tree. As always, he is terribly hungry, having only had a handful of nuts and berries for breakfast, but he does not feel like walking around the woods to try and find more just now. No, sitting in the sun for a while and finally getting a little warm while taking a nap sounds like a much better idea. And if one of the mushroom hunting party stumbles upon him, then so be it. They have not tried to kill him yet, so why would they suddenly go out of their way and do it? Yawning heartily, Cahir closes his eyes and raises his face toward the more than welcome sun. After another night filled with bad dreams, it takes less than a minute for him to fall fast asleep.

All of a sudden, Cahir is rudely awakened from his slumber by a horrible din. He jolts bolt upright. What the fuck? The noise sounds like somebody is beating a ladle against a big metal lid with all their strength. Is that the newest dinner call? If so, everybody from here to the Yaruga has certainly heard it. What folly. Or maybe it is something else?

Just when Cahir is about to stand up to check what is going on in the clearing, there is a rustling in the bushes. A split second later the most grotesque creature he has seen in his life is standing right before him on its two pairs of thin, knotty hind legs, its ugly head with the impressive, sharp mandibles and the huge eyes set on stalks level with his own. He freezes.

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40814940/chapters/114614950

@witchermonstermayhem @whumpay​

Rating: teens and up audience

Word count: 500

The monster is huge as it stands on its hind legs, its log-like upper body rising high into the air, its grotesque head with the eerily glowing stalk eyes darkening the sky. The enormous, sharp mandibles glisten with moisture. A sticky, greenish fluid dribbles down along the deadly curves of the chitinous, blade-like structures of the ambush predator's chewing mouthparts, forming a drop on both their pointy ends. The drops rapidly increase in size, become bigger and bigger. He stares at the two growing green spheres, paralysed with fear. He knows the fluid is not only highly toxic but also caustic. And, following the laws of gravity, the drops will fall directly onto him, a lethal shower that will burn and devour him. He wants to grab his sword and jump up from his sitting position, drive the long Nilfgaardian blade into the monster's soft belly, but as much as he gropes for it in the semi-darkness of the forest, there is nothing there. No sword, just withered leaves covering the forest floor like broken shards of stained glass windows, their sharp edges cutting painfully into his hands ...

Continue reading on Ao3: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46373815

Picture from The Official Witcher Wiki

This is one of the drawings of an OC that my sister made, I really like her, the designer of the Vision really enchants me hehehehe

No matter how many people have eyes instead of heads, please!