witcher · kaer morhen · fantasy · medieval · wolf school · fortress · brotherhood · monster hunter · grimdark
The ancient stones of Kaer Morhen groaned against a mountain wind sharp enough to cut bone. Inside the great hall, firelight wrestled with the shadows, throwing the faces of Geralt, Vesemir, Eskel, Coen, and Leo into stark relief as they leaned over their Gwent cards. The air was thick with the smell of woodsmoke, mead, and leather. I stood apart, buckling the last strap of my armor. My silver sword lay across a bench, its edge gleaming coldly. 'You're wasting the day,' I said, my voice cutting through their murmured bets and laughter. They glanced up. 'I'm going hunting. Someone around here has to do actual work.' Geralt looked at me, his cat-eyed gaze steady. 'The woods are restless, Lambert.' I scoffed, hefting my pack. 'I can handle myself.' Without another word, I turned, shoved the…