CHAPTER II (ROCHE) - SIDEQUESTS
Contents
- TUTORIAL
- PROLOGUE
- chapter I
- chapter ii iorveth
- Chapter II (Roche) - Sidequests
[While in Vergen, Geralt finds a man in a hut in the old quarry. The corner of his house is covered in yellow paint, with several buckets of the dye surrounding.]
ELTHON: Witcher? I might have some work for you...
GERALT: Did I hear you mention a job?
ELTHON: Indeed, one very much in your line. I know a collector in Vengerberg. He pays well for all kinds of monster-related curios.
GERALT: Arachas venom? Nekker hearts? Sounds doable.
ELTHON: Harpy feathers.
GERALT: Uh-huh. Why feathers?
ELTHON: I never asked. Got the order and that's that. Interested?
GERALT: What kind of coin are we talking about?
ELTHON: Why don't we do a test. Bring me a bundle of fine feathers, for which I'll pay you, and if we're both satisfied, we'll figure things out.
GERALT: He's gonna want more than a bundle? That'll mean a lot of traipsing around.
ELTHON: A few more, yes. So?
GERALT: I'll keep me eyes open, but no promises. I've got more important things to deal with.
[Geralt obtains twelve harpy feathers.]
GERALT: I've got your feathers.
ELTHON: Wonderful. Excellent quality, just what I needed. I'll pay for each and every one.
ELTHON: If you're in need of coin, just bring me more.
GERALT: Sorry, I'd have to be crazy. I know a few easier ways to make coin. See you.
ELTHON: Well, that's a shame...
GERALT: I suppose I've had to work harder for coin in the past. All right, I'll keep it in mind.
ELTHON: Excellent. I await your return.
GERALT: Harpies have become rare in this area.
ELTHON: I'm not sure I understand.
GERALT: Supply drops, prices rise.
ELTHON: By how much?
GERALT: Pay me one and half times as much, and we've got a deal.
ELTHON: You must be mad. I'll not give you that.
GERALT: Pay me twice, maybe three times as much, and we've got a deal.
ELTHON: You must be mad. I'll not give you that.
GERALT: Forget it, then. I'm a witcher who won't sell himself cheap.
ELTHON: Come back if you change your mind.
GERALT: You said this was witchers' work. So either agree to my rate, or find yourself another harpy specialist.
[Geralt obtains the sixty harpy feathers Elthon asks for.]
GERALT: More harpy feathers. Just like you wanted.
ELTHON: Good work - why it's even a pleasure to pay you.
GERALT: I gotta admit - that might've been the strangest job I've ever had.
ELTHON: Well, it's hardly done.
GERALT: No way I'm getting you more. Godspeed.
GERALT: I'll hear you out, but I've got a bad feeling about this.
ELTHON: I need a few more feathers...
GERALT: Who is it that needs them? You or this collector?
ELTHON: He does, of course.
GERALT: Pretty suspicious. Why didn't you tell me how many I was supposed to bring right off?
ELTHON: I... I needed to see the quality. Just a few feathers more. I'll pay extra. Decide.
GERALT: Let me think about it.
[Geralt collects the last eight feathers Elthon wants.]
GERALT: I've got some more feathers. Sleek and untattered. I hope that'll do it.
ELTHON: I'll look at them and select the finest. There's your payment, with a small bonus.
GERALT: What am I supposed to do with the ones I have left?
ELTHON: Whatever you wish. I've no need for them. Farewell.
[Geralt can return to Elthon's hut later... to find him dressed up in vividly yellow clothing, covered in yellow feathers and with a makeshift beak strapped to his face, talking to himself.]
ELTHON: Yeeeeess.... You're beautiful, my queen... My lady.... You're a wondrous sight... All in your nest envy you...
GERALT: I don't need this feather. Please take it.
GERALT: Hope I'm not interrupting...
GERALT: Got any other work for me?
[Elthon's mouth opens in shock. He appears speechless.]
GERALT: Pretty warm for this time of year.
ELTHON: It is colder, usually, isn't it.
GERALT: The mages must be up to something.
ELTHON: Oh yes, they devise those experiments, always changing the world. They'll botch it one day, and it'll be the end of us, I tell you.
GERALT: I shudder to even think about it.
GERALT: I want you to have this feather. I have no use for it.
ELTHON: No thank you. Neither do I.
GERALT: Neither does this collector, you mean.
ELTHON: Yes, yes, Neither does he.
GERALT: I wonder why he needed a specific number of feathers.
ELTHON: Perhaps to match the number of empty spaces in his... feather album?
GERALT: Don't see how that would matter.
ELTHON: It's immensely important!
GERALT: Well, I guess I don't know much about collections...
[When Geralt leaves the hut, he finds a fake beak of the same type as Elthon's in his inventory.]
[In the corner of Roche's camp, several of the Blue Stripes are having a fistfighting match.]
JUDOCUS: Fenn, keep droppin' your guard like that, and they'll beat your kisser to a pulp!
JUDOCUS: Who do we have here?!
GERALT: Someone who's worried about your close combat skills.
FENN: We practice a few hours every day.
GERALT: And here I thought practice makes perfect.
JUDOCUS: Really? Care to show us your skill, then, white-haired one?
GERALT: What are the rules?
JUDOCUS: Spare our gentlemen's bits for the ladies. Other than that, hit wherever you want. We'll learn somethin', maybe you'll learn somethin' - always fucking comes in handy.
JUDOCUS: So, shall we give it a go?
GERALT: When the time comes. Practice on your own for now.
GERALT: Why not? Who's willing?
FENN: I'll try! See if you're as strong in your arms as y'are in your gob.
GERALT: Let's see what my friend Vernon taught you.
JUDOCUS: Make some room!
[Geralt takes Fenn on.]
JUDOCUS: The Blue Stripes can beat the crap out of anyone, even a witcher! See, you can learn from us, too. Come back when you fancy another try.
JUDOCUS: Got a feeling Fenn won't remember much of that fight...
JUDOCUS: We've a few more surprises up our sleeves... how about you?
GERALT: Why not? Who's willing?
SILAS: Take me on. I fancy learning a few witcher's tricks.
[Geralt beats Silas]
JUDOCUS: Ha! He's still young. He'll learn!
JUDOCUS: We've a few more surprises up our sleeves... how about you?
GERALT: Why not? Who's willing?
[Roche approaches the group.]
ROCHE: Run out of monsters to slay? Why are you fighting my men?
GERALT: Just checking to see if you've taught them well.
ROCHE: And...?
GERALT: I'm amazed they're still standing.
ROCHE: You lackeys! Letting yourselves get thrown around like hay bales?
ROCHE: Maybe you want to give me a try?
ROCHE: Ha-ha. Stick to slaying monsters.
GERALT: You've got hammers, not hands, Vernon.
ROCHE: You win... feels like I've been kicked by a mare.
JUDOCUS: Pleasure getting' a few slugs in the mug from you, witcher... We're always eager to learn. You deserve a prize.
GERALT: I don't need a reward.
JUDOCUS: It's no reward, just a sign of gratitude. We drag our arses 'round the world and collect all sorts of scrap metal. Take something.
[Geralt chooses a prize.]
JUDOCUS: May it serve you well. See you soon!
[A Kaedweni soldier appears.]
BURTON: Not so fast, witcher! You'll take me on, now. You snitch...
GERALT: So be it.
GERALT: I'm not gonna fight you.
BURTON: That's just not an option.
[After Geralt beats Burton, Zyvik arrives.]
ZYVIK: What the bloody hell's all this about?
BURTON: We're just practicing.
ZYVIK: Want practice? I'll have you cleanin' the canteen with your bare arses! How's that for practice? Back to the camp!
BURTON: Aye, sssssir!
BURTON: That doesn't end this. Stop looking for square coins. You've little to gain and you just might lose your head over it.
GERALT: So long.
[If Roche won, talking to Judocus again gives this dialogue.]
JUDOCUS: The commander's one tough nut. He beat the crap out of the witcher, he can beat the crap out of anyone.
[The fight with Burton is later continued in the sidequest A Score to Settle in Chapter III (Roche).]
[After Geralt beats Letande with Sven, the arena master stops Geralt.]
PROXIMO: Witcher!
GERALT: What?
PROXIMO: The King is impressed with your skills. He has called on me to organize a tournament.
GERALT: If this goes on, his entire army will be slaughtered before he moves against Aedirn.
PROXIMO: This time it will be a tourney of knights, none of that slaughter for the riff-raff to enjoy. The King will reward the winners handsomely. If you're interested, find me by the arena.
[Geralt goes to the arena to talk to Proximo.]
PROXIMO: Who do I spy if not the famed Geralt of Rivia!
GERALT: You seem to know me, but I have no idea who you are.
PROXIMO: And you're worse off for that, for I can make you even more famous.
GERALT: You write ballads or something?
PROXIMO: I've no notion of songs, but the King's vested me with the task of organizing knightly tourneys. A sword master like you must be eager to show off his skills.
PROXIMO: Knightly tournaments are a pastime for real men.
GERALT: Does King Henselt have any interests besides fighting?
PROXIMO: We value knightly tradition in Kaedwen. Only duels in the arena let a knight stay in good form and hone his skills.
GERALT: All right. I'll take part in your tournament.
PROXIMO: The King will be pleased. Just remember, this will not be a fight to the death.
GERALT: I'll try not to forget.
PROXIMO: Duels take place from noon to dusk. You'll find me by the arena then.
GERALT: Can we start the tourney?
PROXIMO: Ready?
GERALT: Who will I be fighting?
PROXIMO: Your opponents will be Gwideon, Rendag and Borin. Interested to know who they are?
GERALT: Their names are enough.
GERALT: Who's Gwideon?
PROXIMO: One of the top fencers in the Kaedweni army.
GERALT: Who's Rendag?
PROXIMO: A very experienced soldier. He's fought in all of Henselt's campaigns for the past twenty years.
GERALT: Tell me about Borin.
PROXIMO: Borin's famous for his courage. He fears nothing and no one.
GERALT: What are the rules?
PROXIMO: Two adversaries fight until one of them yields.
GERALT: That's it?
PROXIMO: The loser is out of the tourney. Ready?
GERALT: I am, indeed.
PROXIMO: Let's begin, then.
PROXIMO: Witcher Geralt of Rivia will now fight the honorable Gwideon.
GWIDEON: I yield!
PROXIMO: Witcher Geralt wins!
PROXIMO: The witcher will now take on the honorable Rendag!
RENDAG: I surrender!
PROXIMO: Witcher Geralt wins!
PROXIMO: Geralt of Rivia will now take on the fearless Borin!
BORIN: I yield!
PROXIMO: Witcher Geralt wins!
PROXIMO: The witcher lost! Kaedwen is victorious!
PROXIMO: You lost, witcher. Kaedweni might triumphs again!
GERALT: Yeah, King Henselt oughta roll out the barrels and let you all celebrate.
[After Geralt beats all three opponents, we see King Henselt watching the tournament, annoyed.]
HENSELT: Is there not a single fuckin' soul in Kaedwen able to beat the witcher?! Dung-filled cowards, all of you!
VES: Apparently not in Kaedwen, but in Temeria – perhaps... I'll give it a shot.
HENSELT: Ha ha ha. That could be... interesting. If you win, I'll double the reward!
PROXIMO: The witcher's challenger this time will be Ves – a maiden serving in an elite unit of the Temerian army!
GERALT: I yield!
HENSELT: The witcher, beaten by a lady! Ha hah! Priceless! Give the woman her prize!
VES: I surrender!
HENSELT: A few more like him and I could conquer half the world. Give him the prize! He's earned it.
[After the battle, Geralt and Ves talk to Proximo.]
PROXIMO: An interesting fight. And an unexpected result!
GERALT: Ves is a worthy opponent.
VES: Then why did you treat me like a novice?
GERALT: I don't know what you're talking about.
VES: Yes, you do.
PROXIMO: Take your prize, woman.
VES: Stick the prize up your arse, you con. I'm going back to my camp.
PROXIMO: A piece of advice: If you want to lose to a woman on purpose, do it properly.
GERALT: You're right. Made a fool of myself. Unnecessarily so.
PROXIMO: A wonderful spectacle, witcher!
GERALT: Thanks to Ves, not me.
PROXIMO: The King was amused to see you defeated by a woman.
VES: Men and women are equals in the arena.
PROXIMO: Yet it's hard not to notice your sex. In any case, the prize is yours.
GERALT: Promising start to the day. What'll you do with the remainder of it?
VES: I'll rest in my tent.
GERALT: Care for a visitor?
VES: If you feel like resting, too...
PROXIMO: Women inevitably get their way... both in the arena and out.
GERALT: So long, Proximo.
PROXIMO: The King wanted a spectacle and he got it. A shame the result was so predictable.
VES: Witchers are not invincible.
PROXIMO: Seems this one is. But you were brave, nonetheless.
GERALT: She fought harder than all the Kaedweni soldiers combined.
VES: You're very kind.
PROXIMO: Wasn't so kind in the arena.
VES: He took me seriously.
GERALT: That's true.
VES: Thanks for not giving me a handicap. I'm going back to my camp. Visit me if you want...
PROXIMO: Women... Here's your prize. I need to get back to my business.
GERALT: Thanks.
[Talking to Proximo after the tournament ends and Ves leaves gives the following conversation.]
PROXIMO: Tournaments - now that's a pastime for real men.
GERALT: I've had enough tournament fighting.
PROXIMO: I'm content we could see you in action.
GERALT: Your tournament was a success.
PROXIMO: For that lass, perhaps, but as I see it, witcher, you took a dive. I don't much care why, but folk don't like to be conned, is all.
GERALT: Your tournament was a success.
PROXIMO: Aye, you could say so... I know now that no common man can match a witcher. But at least it was a nice spectacle, good diversion for the men.
GERALT: Henselt has some well-trained fighting men.
PROXIMO: Too bad that rag from Aedirn don't know it. An army whose fighting men best a witcher is any army that can't be defeated.
[Geralt goes to meet Ves in the Blue Stripes' camp.]
GERALT: I wanted to congratulate you.
VES: I can do without that.
GERALT: You showed those mercenary bums what swordsmanship is all about.
VES: First you offend me in the arena by pretending to fight. Now you offend me again by thinking I didn't notice your deception. That's a bit too much for me.
GERALT: You're taking this too seriously.
VES: And you don't take me seriously enough.
GERALT: Can I fix it somehow?
VES: Yes. You can leave me alone.
GERALT: I haven't seen you in such a good mood for a long time.
VES: I haven't had any reason to be in a good mood for a long time.
GERALT: Really? And winning a duel was all you needed?
VES: It's not just the win, it's who I defeated. Frankly, I was sure you'd either beat me or let me win.
GERALT: Are you sure I didn't go easy on you?
VES: I can tell when someone fights for real and when they fool around.
GERALT: You're very good.
VES: Well, well... First I beat a witcher, then he showers me with compliments. I wonder what else is in store for me.
GERALT: Many good things, I hope. All of them without me, though.
VES: Shame.
GERALT: Maybe some other time.
GERALT: A good day should be celebrated.
VES: In that case, may I offer you some wine? We'll drink to my victory.
GERALT: And to my defeat. I'm appreciating the fact that you beat me more and more.
GERALT: Why did you think I'd cheat?
VES: To make me happy...?
GERALT: I know better ways to please a woman.
VES: I'm sure you do.
[Continues same as "A toast with a witcher?"]
GERALT: That would be childish.
VES: Men are often childish. Especially when they want to screw.
GERALT: Apparently mutants are different.
VES: In that they aren't childish, or in that they don't want to screw?
GERALT: I'm sure you can solve that riddle by yourself.
VES: You really don't want to help me?
GERALT: I have a lot of things to do.
GERALT: Legends abound about witcher potency.
VES: I've heard there's but a grain of truth in most legends.
GERALT: There's a whole sack of truth in this one.
[Continues from "VES: I have some Toussaintois wine..."]
GERALT: I wanted to thank you - that was a great fight.
VES: The only great fights are those I win.
GERALT: It's no dishonor to lose to a mutant created for swordsmanship.
VES: If it wasn't a tournament but a battle, we wouldn't be speaking now.
GERALT: You were better than all the knights of Kaedwen put together.
VES: You're very kind.
GERALT: I'm sincere.
VES: A rare trait. Perhaps I should take advantage of this opportunity...
GERALT: I'd like to sit down and have an honest talk with you, but I don't have time now.
VES: Shame.
GERALT: Another day, maybe.
GERALT: Hm, since we're being honest, I'd like to have some wine with you.
VES: With pleasure.
GERALT: I wasn't expecting you to agree. This was your chance to get back at me.
VES: I have no need. In truth, I'm grateful to you.
GERALT: Interesting...
VES: I was sure you'd go easy on me, then I'd have told you to bugger off. But since you took me seriously...
VES: I have some Toussaint wine in my tent. Could I tempt you?
GERALT: Lead the way.
[Geralt joins Ves in her tent.]
GERALT: I learned more about you from that duel than from all our conversations put together.
VES: I'm curious, according to Geralt of Rivia, what is Ves like?
GERALT: It shouldn't surprise anyone that you're in the military.
VES: Why?
GERALT: You have a bigger set of balls than most men.
VES: Was that supposed to be a compliment?
GERALT: Yes. I was under the impression you'd rather be a man.
VES: Wrong impression. Drink up and go back to your business. I'm tired.
GERALT: She's ambitious... Honorable... And beautiful.
VES: In that order?
GERALT: What if I say the reverse?
VES: If you think I don't like to hear compliments about my beauty, you're very wrong. I'm a soldier and it pisses me off when I'm viewed as a pair of tits atop an arse. But I'm also a woman and like every woman, I have my needs...
GERALT: In that case, let's drink to your needs.
VES: I fulfill my needs differently.
GERALT: Then what do you want to drink to?
VES: To us.
GERALT: I didn't know there was an us.
VES: Better to live a day as a king than a life as a beggar. First, we'll drink the wine, then we'll go to bed.
GERALT: Can we do it the other way around?
GERALT: Thanks, but I'm otherwise occupied.
VES: You mean your work... or Triss?
GERALT: Both. Great wine, though.
[Geralt and Ves have sex together.]
[Geralt sees a pair of younger soldiers bullying a much older one.]
SOLDIER 1: Piss off out of here!
MAVRICK: You're talking to an elder, so show a little respect, you prick licker.
SOLDIER 1: Respect? For you? This is no place for crappers like you. Out, I said!
SOLDIER 2: Aye, true! Join the pigs in the pen - that's your place!
[Geralt checks on the older soldier.]
GERALT: Are you all right?
MAVRICK: You'd best leave. Old Mavrick ain't a good companion, unless you're looking for someone to mock.
GERALT: What I saw back there - that happen often? What's the problem?
MAVRICK: I've bigger problems to deal with than the camp tramps. My nightmares have invaded my waking life. The specters haunt and hunt me by day.
GERALT: Come on, nightmares are common. Start at the beginning.
MAVRICK: One night, I walked to the riverside and sat there, staring at the stars. I must have fallen asleep. I dreamt of my birdie, her milk-white bosom, her gentle voice... I saw and heard her as if she sat beside me.
MAVRICK: And then that voice became a terrifying whisper. Curdled the blood in my veins. I opened my eyes but the specter remained. It went on talking, hovering over me, stretching its mitts out towards me. I felt a deathly chill. And then it happened...
GERALT: What?
MAVRICK: Never been a coward. At the fore and fierce in many battles. But a human's one thing, a specter's another... No other way to put this... I shit myself - out of fear. Pants right full by the time I got back to camp. Since then, they mock me, call me the Crapper...
GERALT: I'm not surprised, to be honest.
GERALT: I didn't see anyone mocking you. Well, except for those two drunks.
MAVRICK: Then you haven't looked around well enough. I'm the laughing-stock of the entire camp.
GERALT: Why did you go to the beach?
MAVRICK: During Henselt's last expedition we stayed in a house there. My unit was on the lookout for Demavend's forces trying to cross the river. I just wanted to recall the old times...
GERALT: So you took part in the campaign three years ago?
MAVRICK: Took part? I barely escaped with my life. Liva, the brothel medic, saved me. Talk to her if you want to learn more - she knows everything about the camp.
GERALT: What time did the specter appear?
MAVRICK: I went to the beach after my watch, so it must've been an hour before midnight. I've no idea how long I slept, but when I reached the camp it was dawning in the east.
GERALT: I'll deal with the specter, but you should know a witcher's services don't come cheap.
MAVRICK: My soldier's pay is meagre. Got but a few coins in my pouch and some pipeweed. Will you do it for that?
GERALT: All right.
GERALT: Hm. Doesn't sound like you have enough coin, and I just don't do charity work.
[Geralt goes to talk to Liva, near the brothel tent.]
GERALT: Are you Liva?
LIVA: If you've got a growth of some sort and you're here for the salve, get in line.
GERALT: Nothing of the sort this time. You were here during Henselt's previous expedition.
LIVA: What of it?
GERALT: I have some questions.
LIVA: Be quick. Half of Henselt's nobility's waiting for this salve. They've all started pissing blood out of longing for the spouses they left at home.
LIVA: Three years back it was the home of Malget, a healer, and his family. While he helped us tend the wounded, someone murdered his children.
LIVA: Malget couldn't come to terms with the tragedy and threw himself into the river. The children were buried behind the house - their graves should still be there.
GERALT: Did many soldiers survive the battle three years ago?
LIVA: But a handful. The rest were just vaporized. Those who could walk dragged those who couldn't. All the survivors were horribly burned.
GERALT: I'm interested in that tower.
LIVA: It's the remnant of a manor, sacked long ago. They call it the Tower of Debauchery since Madame Carole made camp at its foot.
GERALT: The ravines around the camp - they don't look like they were shaped by nature.
LIVA: They're proof of the great power sorceresses can summon. Sabrina's fireballs scarred the ground for many miles around the battlefield.
GERALT: I'll let you get back to treating all those brave fighting men.
[Geralt heads out to the house on the cliff. Behind the hut, there are four graves, marked with the names of Malget, Murron, Marissa, and Moira. Each stone has a series of symbols on it. Next to the house, he finds a secret basement with three candles on altars marked with symbols; Geralt lights the candles in the order of the symbols on Malget's grave and enters the secret room that opens. He collects a piece of paper with mysterious words and then heads down to the beach. When he approaches the water, three female wraiths appear.]
SISTER: You're not the one we seek, though his aura is strong, even on you.
GERALT: Impossible. I watched Mavrick wash his pants.
SISTER: Who are you?
GERALT: I'm a collector of corpse-ridden nightmares. Die, specter!
GERALT: I'm a witcher and I'm here because you haunt an innocent man. You've ruined Mavrick's life and it's high time you left this world.
SISTER: Mavrick, innocent? That son of a bitch murdered me and my two sisters, then threw our bodies off the cliff. Our father, Malget, died of despair. Fortunately, fate has brought Mavrick here again, straight into our hands. Revenge shall be ours...
GERALT: You lie, specter. Die!
GERALT: I need to find out if you're telling the truth. If your story checks out... I'll bring Mavrick here.
[Geralt returns to Henselt's camp to find Mavrick.]
GERALT: The specters are gone and your nightmare with them, Mavrick.
MAVRICK: The gods guide you, witcher! I'll sleep soundly again and I've you to thank for that.
MAVRICK: Have you managed to do anything, witcher?
GERALT: I went to the house where you and your unit were stationed. Found some interesting things in the cellar.
MAVRICK: I know nothing of that - and don't wish to know anything. I just want to be rid of that phantom.
GERALT: I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth.
MAVRICK: If I must. Folk say that old Malget conspired with the river demons. So much blood has flowed down the Pontar - it's the evil in it that the beings in the river's depths feed on. That's all I know, truly.
GERALT: The specters manifest themselves even when you're absent. They've burrowed deep into your subconscious. If I killed them now, they'd return instantly. So I need your help to destroy them.
MAVRICK: If there's no other way... What would you ask of me?
GERALT: Meet me at the beach, an hour before midnight.
GERALT: The specter claims she's the ghost of one of the sisters you murdered. They're out for revenge.
MAVRICK: Is that why you wanted my coin?! To talk rubbish?! You're no better than them, you freak! Away with you, demon.
[Mavrick runs off. When Geralt returns to the beach at night, he finds Mavrick disemboweled on the shore, and the wraith reappears.]
SISTER: Mwa ha ha! You're a fool, witcher! You trusted a ghost born of suffering. My power shall grow with what you have granted me. When I devour your soul, nothing will stop me!
GERALT: What...? Who are you? And who murdered the sisters?
SISTER: Their beloved father did! Aedirnian soldiers defiled them and he could not abide the shame. A sensitive murderer...
GERALT: Why did you go after Mavrick? Why not let him live?
SISTER: Aaah. His father, you see... he had certain dealings - with me. I was elated when he gave his children up to me, sent them into my arms. When he himself then joined us, my power grew, I felt a might in me like never before. And then I thought, "families should stick together..."
SISTER: ...And I was right - Mavrick was scrumptious. Odd that you never noticed Mavrick had only two sisters and not three. Initially I worried I would not fool anyone with a multiplied female soul, but his brother's proved too resistant and I was forced to try. Lucky for me, a naive witcher came along.
[A demon steps out of a portal and attacks Geralt.]
SISTER: Finally, I have the power! Once I devour your soul, I'll be indestructible!
[Geralt kills the demon, ending the quest.]
GERALT: Come on, no reason to keep the specters waiting.
[Geralt and Mavrick go to the beach and the spectres appear.]
SISTER: You've finally returned, brother... Time to atone for your evil deeds. You shall surrender to us your soul.
MAVRICK: Kiss my arse, phantom. You'll not make me shit myself this time. Me and the witcher will dispatch you where you belong.
SISTER: Naive little Mavrick... Made a fool of your entire life. Isn't that true, Geralt?
MAVRICK: W-what are they talking about?
GERALT: I leave him to you.
MAVRICK: How could you betray me?! I trusted you... I... No...! Aaaargh!
[The spectres kill Mavrick, and the wraith says the same as if Geralt tells Mavrick they said he was a murderer.]
GERALT: Don't listen to this nonsense, just help me kill them.
GERALT: The specters say you're their brother. And you murdered them three years ago. What do you say?
MAVRICK: How can you even ask?! I'm a soldier, not a murderer!
GERALT: Denying it is not enough. You need to prove your innocence. And I need to know the truth before I make my choice.
MAVRICK: I never murdered anyone! I'm a soldier - I kill foes, not women!
GERALT: I'll take your word over that of evil spirits. Now help me...
GERALT: You can't prove your innocence, and somehow you neglected to mention they were your sisters. They themselves are proof of your crime - they're dead.
[The spectres kill Mavrick, and the wraith says the same as if Geralt tells Mavrick they said he was a murderer.]
[If Geralt says he believes Mavrick, he and Mavrick kill the spirits.]
MAVRICK: I'll not forget what you did for me.
GERALT: I did it for coin.
MAVRICK: A small price for peace of mind.
GERALT: Don't you owe me an explanation? I wanna hear the truth.
MAVRICK: I was born by the very border. General Vandergrift understood that I knew every blade of grass here, so he appointed me lead scout. We were based in my family's house.
GERALT: This house...
MAVRICK: One day I scouted beyond the river. When I returned... I found my father digging the graves behind the house.
GERALT: What happened?
MAVRICK: Honor was everything to him. He had brought us up, taught us principles. And then one day Aedirnian soldiers arrived and undid all that, shamed his children... He could not stop himself... He swore he did not do it... But there was blood on his clothes... We fought... He fell from the cliff...
GERALT: Why did the specters want your soul?
MAVRICK: Maybe they've no tolerance for patricide?
GERALT: Maybe.. Now go back to camp and present proof of your valor. Take back your dignity.
From a Bygone Era
[Geralt takes Malget's notes to Dethmold.]
GERALT: Can you make anything out of these notes, sorcerer?
DETHMOLD: Where did you get them?
GERALT: Unimportant.
DETHMOLD: And you've no notion what's in them?
GERALT: Wouldn't be asking if I did.
DETHMOLD: They describe a very dangerous ritual. Practically pure necromancy - the sort that gets you burned at the stake.
GERALT: Be specific. What kind of ritual?
DETHMOLD: One to summon the soul of an evil man. A man evil enough to wander the world after death. Souls of this kind gladly enter into covenants in the hope of being sent into the beyond.
GERALT: Why would anyone want to deal with evil?
DETHMOLD: The possible reasons are many. You'll always find people willing to sell their souls in exchange for something valuable to them. I'll gladly buy the scroll.
GERALT: I thought necromancy was forbidden.
DETHMOLD: Oh, it is. But I'm an avid collector of manuscripts containing forbidden knowledge.
GERALT: The manuscript is yours... For the right price.
GERALT: I think I'll keep it. Maybe I can become a collector myself.
[This quest ends for now and, if Geralt keeps the notes, is continued in Chapter III (Roche).]