Scavenger Hunt: Bear School Gear Witcher 3: Wild Hunt Quest

Chronicles of Clan Tuirseach

... and so there was much rejoicing in the castle at the appearance of an itinerant monster slayer in the person of the witcher Gerd. Jarl Torgeir, whose face in the months since the death of his battle brother, Ingmar, had worn a listless and saddened frown, came alive with renewed strength. Jarl and witcher fast found common tongue, and soon were venturing on hunts together and hosting feasts at which there was no end to laughter nor bluster... [illegible]

...then Jarl Torgeir told Gerd of the hideous striga which prowled the ruins of Etnir, desecrating that once-proud fortress, which in happier times had stood a steadfast guardian of the northern expanses of Ard Skellig. The jarl's lament moved the witcher, who announced he would slay said beast. Yet witcher Gerd was a craftsman ever diligent and true, and so explained he first had to complete a prior contract and rid a cave on Spikeroog of sirens...[illegible]

And so the jarl gave Gerd a full pouch of coin and the services of Olven, Org's son, as a guide to take him safely to Spikeroog and, if the danger grew fierce, to fight the sirens at the witcher's side. His heart filled with gratitude, Gerd entrusted an armor diagram to the jarl, one he had long carried and held most dear, as a token of his sincere intent to return as soon as he had finished his allotted task...

The knight Chalimir's letter

Your Most Honored Grace, the Duchess of Arcsea!

[illegible fragment]… The witcher Gerd feared Your Grace’s wrath, feared Your Grace’s righteous fury, so off he fled to Skellige, to that hive of pirates, thieves and other such bandits. In sooth, the gods must have smiled on our quest, for quickly did we catch his foul scent and track him to a public house near the village of Fyresdal, where he was banqueting with the locals. Some sought to protect him, treating the traitorous man as a companion in arms. We therefore showed them no mercy and burned the inn to the ground. Alas and alack, the witcher escaped us once again, but we tracked him to the ruins of the old fortress called Etnir, where he went to hide or else perchance lay in wait by some monster... [illegible]

We made haste to assault his position with all our strength, but still the treacherous foe slew five of my men, wounded me most severely and brought the ruins' roof collapsing down on us with some witchcraft. Never fear, we shall surely free ourselves from here soon. Meanwhile I have ordered the vile witcher's campsite searched and have found a diagram for some highly curious weapon. It is enclosed with this writing, entrusted to Your Grace's safekeeping. Another day, perhaps two, and we shall dig ourselves out of this rubble and catch the witcher. If fate is kind, perhaps I shall next send Your Grace not a missive, but the witcher's scalp... [illegible]

...yet it must be said that from the very start he slighted Your Grace with his most rude and brusque manners, though it is beyond the reasoning of a simple knight such as I to comprehend how a base worm like that could dare refuse Your Duchessness anything! Why, serving Your Most Graciousness is an honor, and anyone who shuns such service reveals himself as a simpleton and a knave. Thank all the heavens the gods watch over Your Graceful Being, and the merciless usurper, that twisted wretch who deems himself your father, could be ripped off his stolen throne without the need for that mutant’s help. Yet it is a witcher’s swiving employ, Your Grace, if you will pardon my Temerian, to kill monsters, and Your Good Grace’s father, why, what was he, if not a beast, a murderous monster lapping up the blood of innocents? And since he was such a monster - though draped in human skin, revealing his monstrous form only through deeds and not demeanor - the witcher ought to have killed him, as Your Grace asked of him. Therefore, it is just that said freak shall pay with his neck for violating the dictates of honor and witcher law alike.

Your Grace’s humble servant

Chalimir of Black Frydland, of the Brant banner

Letter to Ingeborga Kalebsdotter

My dearest Ingerborga,

[illegible fragment] … arrived at Fort Tuirseach on summer’s first day. He tarried there a while, draining more than one barrel of mead with the jarl. Soon both were fast friends. Then one day Jarl Torgeir summoned me and ordered me to sail to Spikeroog with him, to show him to where the sirens were the thickest.

It’s no exaggeration, my little mountain goat, to say I’ve never met a warrior like him in my life. He’s lithe as an eel and strong as a bear! When the sirens came at us, I hadn’t even time to seize my axe before he’d gutted them all. And his weapon, why, I’ve never seen its like – a crossbow, but so small he wields it with one hand. I know he has a sketch of it in his saddlebags, for I spied it when he was packing up. Once he's asleep, I'll try to sketch a copy to take to our smith on An Skellig, so he can make others. So we can protect ourselves from the sirens, case they return.

[illegible fragment]… soon as dawn breaks, we’re off, sirens are swarming thicker and thicker, my hands are numb from so much sword-swinging and my breath’s ragged, but thinking of you gives me strength… [rest of letter illegible]

Innkeep's notes

...that was right before dusk. Then a witcher showed, dirty and unshaven and stinking worse than a fisherman from Faroe. Asked for a room and a bucket of water so's he could freshen up some. First I didn't want to let him in, on account of the bloody sack he was carrying, but then it came out he had arranged to meet Jorgen Iron Hand here - and a friend of Jorgen's a friend of mine...[illegible]

Sun had long set by the time Jorgen showed. Witcher handed him that sack and we all learned why it stank so bad - inside was the head of a siren. Jorgen had contracted the witcher to take it down after it attacked some folk in a cave in the northwestern part of Spikeroog. Seeing it dead cheered folk awful fast, and Jorgen, happy as a clam, started buying everybody rounds. The witcher refrained at first, saying he was off to take care of a striga that'd infested the ruins of a fortress on the northern edge of the isle, but in the end he gave in - after all, there's no refusing Jorgen...[illegible]

...made a lovely heap of coin that day, for the sun started rising and not a man had gone home. The witcher got drunk with Jorgen and started telling us tales, then we sat down for some gwent. That Gerd, he might be a first-class warrior, but he's one lousy card player. Lost half his reward for that siren to me (and drank the other half), then, wanting to win it back, he wagered a diagram for some kind of steel sword. To my eye it was a scrap of rubbish, but fuck it, some things you gotta do for the sake of sportsmanship and camaraderie, so I accepted the wager...[illegible].