鲁丝一区二区三区免费

[PR: Ash]

A silver line extended across the horizon, heralding the coming of dawn. A cloaked silhouette leapt out of the Worldgate, appearing within the bedchambers of Bran, ruler of Skellige. Roy looked at the bed. A plump Calanthe was sound asleep, and the witcher made his way to the windowsill. He fired a bolt into the air and reappeared right beside the bed. As Roy reached his destination, he let off another bolt, this time hurtling toward the top of the building.

The witcher disappeared and reappeared beside the second bolt, landing on the roof, and he stared into the distance. What greeted him were the six isles of Skellige. On the west coast was the lush island of Spikeroog, its fanglike outline and cliffs standing tall against the waves, the top of its mount hidden behind the blanket of clouds.

In the south was Ard Skellig. The southern part of Ard Skellig was made of even land, while its northern part was a deep fjord. The conical island of Hindarsfjall sat in the southeast. According to the clue Triss gave him, that was where Ortolan was residing.

Standing behind Ard Skellig was a lone island by the name of Faroe, isolated from the other isles. It looked like the exposed back of a whale. In the west was the isle of Undvik, the other destination Roy wanted to visit. It was home to Clan Tordarroch. Roy peered further beyond and saw seagulls, cormorants, and swallows congregating on the cliffs.

“This is going to be a big undertaking, so I should start with the simple tasks.” The young witcher fired a bolt and disappeared from the roof, reappearing on ground level a moment later. He couldn’t teleport right away to Undvik, so he needed a boat to ferry him across the strait.

He could use Aerondight’s power and walk on water, but Roy wanted to ride a boat. Sailing on a boat alone while watching the endless seas churning and crashing was an interesting thing to do. And he could farm a bit of EXP while he was at it.

Through a path between the serene woods Roy traversed. The young witcher made his way toward Urialla Harbor, a place located in the southern part of An Skellig.

The isles were located far, far away from the main continent, greenery covering almost every single place. Colorful flowers blossomed in full bloom everywhere, accompanied by a great stretch of bushes and woods that were home to centuries-old oak and pine trees.

There was the occasional house tucked between the woods, bizarre fishes laid out on the wooden rack in the houses’ yard to dry. The islanders’ skin was red and tough, courtesy of their constant exposure to the sea breeze. Most draped themselves with the skin of seals. All of them had some form of weaponry tucked at their buckles. These people would not shy away from a fight.

The witcher noticed an abundance of a certain goddess’ statue standing around the isle. The statue of Freya. Ladies of all ages, even pregnant ones, would stand before the statues. They wore oversized robes, standing straight up. Roy couldn’t see much of their faces. The ladies would bow their heads and put their hands before their chests in a prayer. The young witcher also noticed that they were wearing a necklace around their necks.

A stone vat sat on the altar before the statues. Around it were smaller statues. Statues of animals sacred to Freya: cats and eagles.

Like how most people in the northern part of the continent worshipped Melitele, the people of the isles and kingdoms neighboring the sea mostly put their faith in the goddess, Freya. The goddess was the patron saint of fertility, romance, beauty, and harvest. She was the guardian spirit of oracles, fortune-tellers, and spirit mediums.

The Continent’s people thought Freya and Melitele were one and the same, but that statement was sacrilege in the eyes of the islanders.

***

Roy suspected that Freya might be blessing him, since he wasn’t attacked by any of the local monsters. He thought he’d run into armored arachas, werewolves, or even harpies, but no. He didn’t even run into any bandits. The witcher arrived at the harbor without so much as a scratch.

His first thought about the harbor? It was rundown. A far cry from the bustling port of Novigrad. There were only a dozen regular houses, inns, smithies, and warehouses dotting the wooden port. The buildings looked rugged and had no intricate patterns adorning their walls. These structures were built with practicality in mind. Like its people, aesthetics weren’t something they cared about.

A few ships were docked at the harbor. Some of them were drakkars, ships made for the military. The bronze shields that hung by their sides shimmered under the sun. There were also barges used to carry shipment. Those were employed by merchants who came all the way to Skellige Isles for trade.

Guards with horned helms and brigandine armor patrolled around the ships, peering sharply at the people walking around, and they paid special attention to Roy, who was covered in a black cloak. The guards kept an eye on him until he went into The Cane Toad.

A circle of old, rectangular tables surrounded a big bonfire in the center of the tavern. Patrons sat around the tables, drinking and feasting away. This place reminded him of the inn back in Skyrim, but unlike Skyrim, there were no bards around playing decadent tunes with the lute. The islanders did not take particular interest in poetry. Thought they took a long time to get to the point.

They were far more interested in boxing matches.

“A mandrake cordial, please.” Roy sat before the counter and whipped out ten coppers. Skellige Isles had a trade route that led to Novigrad, so they accepted crowns here. The cheapest alcohol around these parts would be mandrake cordial and cherry cider.

The bartender with a bush of grey mustache tucked the coins into his apron and filled a mug to the brim with mandrake cordial for Roy. The islanders loved their alcohol, partly because it could help with the biting winds from the seas. Thanks to that, they had bigger mugs than most places, and they didn’t cost more either.

“First time ‘ere in Skellige? Ye gotta try our famous pickled auk. ‘Tis succulent.” The bartender grinned.

Roy shivered and shook his head, then he slammed five coppers onto the counter. “Got a question for you. Heard there’s a clan called Tordarrach on Undvik. Everyone’s a blacksmith there, correct? Some of them master blacksmiths too, right? Capable of making great weapons and armor?”

“Aye. ‘Tis as ye say, Clan Tordarrach has the best blacksmiths and forge in Skellige… nay, the whole world.” The bartender’s eyes gleamed, his mustache swaying. Proudly, he proclaimed, “They made the sword His Majesty uses. Ter be honest with ye, e’eryone in Skellige would love ter have a weapon made by one o’ ’em. Ain’t all sunshine and roses with ’em, though. Numbers been dwindlin’ lately, an’ so are the good blacksmiths. Limited production e’ery year, so they cost a fortune. An’ ye can’t buy them just cause ye got coin. Ye have to be privileged too. Only those who pass their test can purchase one of them gear.” The bartender smiled mysteriously. “If yer interested, ye best be prepared.”

Huh, that’s odd. Didn’t know they had that kind of system in this world. Roy nodded and downed the tart cordial, then he grinned. “What about the ships? Need to board one to get to Undvik.”

“Aye, bad timin’, lad.” The bartender cleaned a mug, looking downcast. “Tourism only gets a boost in them summer days. ‘Bout five ships taking them tourists round the isles every day. Off season now though, so ship only comes once in three days. An’ it just left yesterday.”

“Cherry cider, please. Can I rent a boat, then? Just by myself.”

“Laddie, that ain’t worth it, ter be honest.” The bartender looked at the young witcher. Ain’t lookin’ like them rich kids. “Yer gotta spend at least a hundred crowns.”

“Ah, it’s not what you think. I won’t be using anything big.” Roy held up his right thumb and index finger, and he smiled. “Just a fishing boat for one. And an oar.”

The bartender froze, and he warned solemnly, “Yer not jokin’, are ye? ‘Tis a long way away from Undvik. Even drakkars gotta take a whole day an’ night just to get ter Undvik from the port. Ye gotta brace for undercurrents, reefs, an’ thunderstorms on yer way, but that’s not all. Ekhidnas. An army o’ ’em on the sea. E’er seen those monsters?”

The bartender animatedly described, “They ‘ave fishlike tails and scales, evil wings like them bats, maws filled with incisors, an’ claws so sharp, they can tear leather apart like they’re nuthin’. They can fly and travel underwater. Loves attackin’ boats that travel by. Ain’t picky ’bout their food, that’s fer sure. Fish and freshly decayin’ human flesh? Feast fer them. Ye try sailin’ alone to Undvik, and I guarantee ye that the ekidhna’s gonna swoop down on ye and gobble ye up ‘fore ye can even make it one-third of the wa—”

The bartender stopped talking as Roy took his sunglasses down and revealed a pair of multicolored eyes. His gaze was sharp and almost blindingly bright, like gold and silver shimmering under the sun. It was almost terrifying. “Should they come for me, then they best be prepared to die. Just as well that I need them for some decoctions.”

***

A golden sun hung high in the blue, blue skies, its rays piercing through the thin blanket of fog swaying on the surface of the seas, the silhouette of a long wooden boat slowly emerging from the mist. The vessel was alone on the vast sea, small and seemingly weak against nature.

The witcher sat in the center of the boat, his back straight, and he pulled his oar back with all his might. The wooden oar swept through the water, pushing Roy away from An Skellig, slowly driving him toward Undvik.

Rowing a boat was more tiring than the witcher expected. It was far easier when he was with Coral, since she would drive the boat forward with magic anyway. The sun was shining down warmly, but the winds of the sea were howling and cutting across anything they set their sights on.

Icebergs of different shapes and sizes bobbed around the sea. Some were too small to even let anyone stand on, while some were as big as a drakkar. Islets dotted the seas like houses on a street, seagulls perching on them and making weird noises.

Sailing in the fog were silhouettes of ships, their sails reflecting the sun’s shine. Barrels trapped in a net floated around the sea, perhaps a shipment of a vessel long sunken. Roy rowed his boat closer to the barrels and knocked on one. The first thing he heard was the sloshing of liquid coming from within.

A smile curled his lips, and he cut the net open, then he took a barrel onto his boat and summoned Aerondight. The witcher poked a hole on the top of the barrel, and the scent of wine wafted into the air, filling the air with a tinge of sourness. “Wine, eh?”

Roy leaned on the bow and put a hand behind his head, holding up a glass of wine, then he took a sip. The witcher basked in the whispers of the sea breeze, enjoying the show of dolphins leaping across the waters, their jumps a perfect performance. The boat swayed along with the waves, and Roy felt like he was on a swing. I could do this all day.

But he didn’t. Half an hour later, the witcher, finally having his fill of food and rest, kept rowing toward Undvik. The island looked close, but it was still far away.

Eventually, the sun reached its zenith, and Roy’s peaceful trip came to an end when his boat started to violently shake. The witcher paused for a moment, his eyes going wide, his languid demeanor replaced by excitement.

Roy tucked his oar away and quickly covered himself with Quen.

A screech came from beneath, and the silhouette that had been ramming the boat broke through the surface, taking to the air. The sun shone on it, revealing a green, slender body. It was like a cobalt serpent, fully decked out with wings as big as a vampire’s. On the tip of its wings, curved blades protruded.

Its upper body resembled a woman, but only just. The claws on its elbow were curved as well, and black fur covered the back of its paws. The monster had a petite nose and an incisor-filled maw, its black hair covering its ears and eyes of bloodlust. The lower part of its body was a long, slender, and sharp tail, its green scales smooth and gleaming. Triangular fins jutted from both sides of the midsection of its tail.

‘Ekhidna

Age: Five years old

HP: 150

Mana: [Not stated]

Strength: 13

Dexterity: 14

Constitution: 15

Perception: 12

Will: 6

Charisma: 3

Spirit: 5

Skills:

Chimera (Passive): Like harpies and erynias, both of which are close relatives to the ekhidna, this creature possesses the strengths of eagles and fish. They can fly and move in water, possess a powerful gut, giving them the ability to consume rotten and fresh meat. That includes human flesh. +4 to Dexterity, Constitution, and Perception.’

***

The ekhidna charged at the witcher like a gust of wind, the air howling as it launched into the offensive.

A flash of white hurtled across the air, then the bolt rammed straight into the ekhidna’s chest, blasting a bloody hole through its body. With a howl, the ekhidna fell. Roy bent down slightly and leapt at the falling creature, swinging his crimson blade down.

Blood fell like a little downpour of rain, and the parts of the monster’s corpse fell into the sea, drenching it red.

‘Ekhidna killed. +150 EXP. Level 12 Witcher (11350/12500).’

Roy held up Aerondight, its enchantment allowing the witcher to walk on the sea. He then picked up the upper part of the dead ekhidna and hauled it back to the boat. Before he could cut it up, a blast echoed across the waters a few dozen yards away, where the undercurrents were. And then a group of ekhidnas appeared.

The scent of their kin’s blood whipped them into a frenzy, and they charged right at the witcher without any care for their safety.

Roy held Aerondight in his right hand and Gabriel in his left. He stood on the surface of the sea, unmoving and unfazed, facing the monsters as they came. One, two, three, four, and five.

The five ekhidnas let out horrible shrieks, their eyes glinting crimson as they surrounded the witcher.

Roy fired a bolt and disappeared into thin air, plunging the monsters into confusion. And then a howl pierced the air, as the blossom of a bloody flower tainted the air. The ekhidna in the center of this group had a hole in its chest, and a blade was buried in its skull from the top.

Like a rider, Roy stood on its wings and pulled his blade out. He flicked the blood off Aerondight, swaying as the monster struggled in its death throes, his hair billowing in the winds.

Once again, the witcher disappeared, and another ekhidna had its life taken away before it could even do anything. A bolt pierced through its body, and a blade sliced into its flesh. Like a kite without a string, it slowly fell into the sea, leaving nothing but blood and feathers behind.

The remaining monsters couldn’t even react to the witcher’s movements. They tried their best to attack, but none could predict where the witcher would appear. They wanted to escape, but the bolts were faster.

Another fell, then another, and another. Blood filled the air with quick succession as Roy darted around the monsters, quick as a bolt of deadly lightning. The witcher’s attacks even left afterimages from the sheer speed he was moving at.

An invisible stage stood beneath the witcher and the ekhidnas. Like a reaper of souls, the witcher danced around, swinging his blade of death at the souls of the damned, taking them into the afterlife.

***

The battle, or to be exact, the massacre, came to an end in five seconds, and a few bloody corpses were floating on the sea.

Roy stood on the surface of the waters, cleaning the blood on his body slowly, then he picked up the corpses and looted them, gaining three blue mutagens from the ekhidnas.

‘(5) ekhidnas killed. +750 EXP. Level 12 Witcher (12100/12500).’

Roy sat on the bow of his boat and let out a loud whistle as he rowed the boat ahead again. “At this rate, I should be able to fill my EXP bar before I get to Undvik.”