The year was 1231. The world was rife with monsters, war, and dishonesty.

The swamp was still, the sound of water rushing, and birds cooing was all that could be heard.

The faintest of sounds, mud bubbling as the rush of combat ensued. A monster, 10ft tall in stature with arms like an insect threw itself out of the mud like pit, snarling and screeching as it did so. On it's back, a man, clad in black armour and shoulder length white hair, that could be seen beneath the vale of mud he now wore. A fight ensued. Monster against Witcher.

The battle of strength continued, the monster's arms flailing against the Witcher's sharp sword. The terrain was a mixture of mud and blood, as the Witcher threw himself up and into the air, aligning his sword mid-air as he thrust it into the head of the monster on his descent.

There was a final screech as the swamp became silent.

The Witcher stood, thigh deep in mud as the miasma circulating the swamp became lighter, the sun began to coat the area and the sounds of water rushing and birds cooing restarted.

He sheathed his long sword, struggling to walk through the dense mud back to the bank where his loyal horse stood waiting for him. He lifted himself out of the mud pit with some difficulty as he took his horse's reign in hand. 'Looks like it wasn't his day, Roach.'

In his hand he held part of the monster he had severed, placing it with ease onto the horse's back. 'Perhaps we can find someone nearby who can use these.' He patted the horse lovingly on the nose as he spoke to it.

There was the sound of music, violins playing and women singing as he entered the closest city. Blaviken, not one he had visited before. His horse, Roach followed behind him by reign as they walked through the city streets.

He drew a lot of attention, a number of stares, whether it be his mud-stricken appearance or the half-cut monster on his horse's back was irrelevant to him.

The sound of lively conversation and the minor fighting drew him in. The local tavern. Tying Roach to the stable outside he entered the establishment. A number of hushed whispers around him as the music stopped when he approached the bar.

The barmaid, a young woman with a dishevelled appearance and long brown hair approached him.

'Another Witcher? People here are going to think I'm holding a convention. What can I get you?' She placed a pitcher on the table ready to pour him a drink.

'There are a lot of monsters in the area. You bring in good business I suppose for my kind. Point me to the alderman's house and I will be on my way.'

The woman looked unimpressed, likely he would have to give some money for the information.

'It's down the alley to the left. Your friends are out back, I was about to take them there if you would like to join us.' A small child, thin and dirty in appearance came close to him as she spoke.

'We don't want your kind here, Witcher. First those two and now this mutant. What kind of establishment is this?' The sound of a drunk man from behind approaching got his attention.

He gazed down at the small child. 'Take me to the Alderman, and I'll be on my way.' He purposefully turned his back to the drunkard behind him.

'You don't give the orders around here! Mutant son of a bitch.' The sounds of furniture moving as other drunkards approached, gathering in number to cause some unnecessary drama. It took everything for the Witcher not to roll his eyes.

'I don't want any trouble here. I don't want to hurt any of you.'

There was a scoff as the men laughed in response. 'Hurt us? You appear to be outnumbered Witcher. Not scared of us, are you?'

The Witcher smiled smugly in response. He could take these men without his sword easily. Though their arrogance was impressive to him.

'That's enough boys, why don't you let me handle this.' To the side of him entered a woman, red haired and slim in build. Either side of her were two Witcher's, a blonde-haired man with damaged armour and a dark-haired man with a cold expression.

'Sorry, Renfri.' The man in front turned, heading back to his table with one last look of distaste in the Witcher's direction.

The young woman came close to him, 'Sorry about that, I was wondering what was taking our guide so long to meet with us out back. Turns out I have another Witcher to ask company of, lucky me.' The Witcher looked upon the woman in front of him before gazing back towards the other two Witcher's behind her.

'Been a while Geralt.' The blonde man stood forward, putting a hand on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt returned the gesture. 'It has Cameron, I heard you and Nate had been travelling together. It's good to see a familiar face.' They smiled to one another; Nate remained stoic behind.

'Touching. Did you come to answer my protection request as these did?' Renfri stood forward towards Geralt, her eyes roaming over him as she did so.

'I don't know anything about a protection request I'm afraid. I saw there was some work needed in the swamp nearby.' Renfri smiled at his appearance as he said.

'Well, it looks like you need money for new clothes, so how about I recruit you into our little gang here.' Renfri smiled at him, motioning towards Cameron and Nate who stood unbothered by the request.

'And what is it that you'd need three Witcher's to give you protection. Must be a big job, would require a lot of coin.' He flashed a smug smile in her direction. Speaking sarcastically as he did so.

'That's a conversation to have without prying ears.' Renfri looked quickly towards the small child still waiting to accompany them to the Alderman's house.

'It's in my direction. I'll get my horse.' Renfri smiled as he agreed, leaving the bar and unhooking Roach from the stable wall. 'Looks like we have another job, Roach.'