Author's Note

Forewarning: This Witcher story is a wholly personal twist on the general concept put forth in The Witcher series (primarily the games) mixed in abundance with ideas and inspirations I've found in other similarly medieval-fantasy works I love and adore, such as Dark Souls, RuneScape and others. All respect and rights to those brilliant minds which first created these ideas, I'm honored to be able to blend their ideas with mine to make something unique and original. I hope you all enjoy!

Prologue: An Age of Moonlight, An Age of Sunlight

It has been just over six and a half centuries since the Equestrians and their assorted conglomeration of Sentient refugees first arrived in our lands through the Rifts. And in that time, we the Eldar have seen more death, pain and destruction than I would have thought possible for our ancient world to experience. On this, the 655th year of the so-called ‘Age of the Sun’, I finally feel compelled to put into the official memoirs of our Order my own account of the history of the world, and my place within it. And not only of myself, but as well as some accounting of those who have been instrumental in shaping the world as it is now. Seeing as the Age of the Moon and events prior to the Arrival are fragmented and mostly lost to time, I will do my best in surmising the thousands of years in which the Eldar Races ruled these lands and the events that have led to the need for our Order to exist. Needless to say, it is no easy task to compile the histories of so many vibrant peoples, yet I will do my best all the same to bring at least some small part of our stories to the masses. Like any tale, the beginning is by far the best place to seek context for those events which transpire later and so it is with the Creation of our world I begin our history.

Though the Eldar worship many deities, each according to their own pantheon of Gods and Goddesses, there are two Goddesses in particular that are held by the eldest species amongst us to be the originators of Terra Firma, the world in which we call home. Indeed, several Eldar religions acknowledged their existence in some form while bearing varying names and degrees of importance in their respective sects; most following the theme of a set of siblings or relations on some level or another. One who embodied the brilliant fire and nurturing warmth of the Sun, and the other embracing the cool, silvery embrace of the graceful Moon. Sòl and Mani, Llew and Arianhod, Apollus and Nyx…they went by many names and guises amongst the Eldar, yet I prefer to know them by the names their firstborn creation knew them by. By the power of the Primordial Flame and the Silverlight of the Voidless Moon did Mothers Amaterasu and Tsuki form the world, and many of the forms of flora and fauna we were familiar with. Of Sentients, only one species apiece were formed by these beautiful, graceful Sisters of the Cosmos; the mighty, towering Direwolves of the ancient mountain peaks as the direct offspring of Amaterasu and the night-centric, excessively learned and cultured Kitsune Foxes beholden to Tsuki.

Their work now satisfyingly done in their eyes, they took their formal leave of the world in search of new Voids from which they might bring forth more life fit for existence as was their grand calling. Indeed, their leave of absence was all but a calculated move of growth for their budding planet as other deities too have come and gone from our world, each adding a Sentient species or two of their own and possibly other minor beings before vanishing into the Cosmos once more. Many have come and gone in the countless centuries since First Creation, some vanishing for good with nary a whisper from their Shrines and others who still yet cared for the honest labor of their Creation; answering prayers, granting strength and imparting wisdom when they could amongst their many faithful. Though Amaterasu loved her Direwolf children dearly and Her power prevailed as a permeating force in the world, She has yet to physically return to Terra Firma since Her departure. Her lunar Sister on the other hoof, ever the scholar of the whole of Creation, chose to observe our world in secret and by the time of Her second arrival, the Eldar Races as we know them today were all in existence: Valkyrie, Ӧrn, Pygmy, Dwem, Thestral, Miyako, Hippogriff, Dragon, Kobold, Kelpie, Crystalines, and, of course, Her Sister’s ever mighty Direwolves amongst others; each race firmly established in the regions of their choosing and thriving in relative harmony with one another. Upon seeing Her world in such a peaceful state, the Mother of Moonlight was said to have cried tears of pure, unadulterated joy from Her place in the heavens and deemed any further Creation of clans of Sentient life unnecessary on Her part. In fact, it would even be potentially catastrophic to the strong, yet delicate balance of power which had established itself without Her or Her Sister’s direct supervision. And so, with our world seemingly harmonious and perfect, those precious, silvery tears of a Goddess fell to the earth and scattered themselves about before coalescing into the purest, most precious of metals: Lunar Silver. This illustrious metal of unparalleled brilliance had been deeply kissed with the divine powers of Tsuki’s Night, resulting in a material capable of banishing that cold Darkness originating from the Void beyond the night. As an unintentional consequence of these divine tears, the magic fueling the thriving being of Terra Firma turned decidedly Lunar in orientation from that moment forward, beginning the Age of the Moon as scholars now call it. Though the Light of the True Sun of Amaterasu still lit our world by day, and Her love could still be felt like a quiet whisper, it was the silvery Moon which held most of the natural world in its gentle thrall. In truth, the phases of the Moon above worked in tandem with the natural ebb and flow of the Cosmic power at work in our world, with Light and Dark each rising and falling in their own time like the passage of the seasons. Balance in all things relative to their powers. This was the divine plan for us all, and to deny the Darkness cast by the Light we sought to live in, the shadows within our own hearts native to every Sentient being…well, it was simply asinine to consider. Where there was Light, Darkness would likewise be present…and there was no Light, nor Darkness softer than that which came from the Moon above our humble heads.

There is one final act of Creation performed before Tsuki took her leave of our world once more, this time seemingly for good as more than a few millennia have elapsed since that heady time. Staying true to Her foresight as to the established balance of nature in Terra Firma, there was no grand species formed that day, no populous peoples in need of housing and direction in an already established world. Instead, only one lone, solitary being was Created that day. This Daughter of the Night, this Guardian of the Eldar was formally dubbed Nox and was given control over the Lunar Magics that govern how our world lives and breathes; reigning as a royal monarch amongst monarchs and providing guidance to our many peoples. And so for millennia after did we all live in relative peace and comfort amongst one another across the scope of our gorgeous, diverse world. Cities grew, populations flourished and mighty works of art, architecture and civilization at large sprang to life across the globe. Truly no Eldar alive in that wondrous era received a pauper’s share of the prosperity to be found in the Age of the Moon. It could have continued unabated into eternity...yet, there are other forces in the vast Cosmos which enjoy nothing more than the corruption and destruction of all things beautiful and peaceful. The means by which their ends are accomplished are countless, and indeed all pantheons seem to have their varying Gods of Chaos and Goddesses of Mayhem or what have you. All whispering foul deeds into the hearts of living beings within their grasp and beckoning forth their deepest, vilest desires and passions. Their machinations are many and their victims all equally bereft of the hope and peace they may or may not have once felt. Regrettably...this is where our history begins to wane and cower under the weight of the Arrival…

As alluded to previously, it was six-and-a-half centuries ago that one Celestia and her refugees from another world first set hoof on our land in an event broadly known, in one form or another, as the ‘Arrival’. Admittedly, little is now fully remembered as to the reason for their flight from the lands from which they came. From the surviving records provided by our great Library and Archives, I am almost certain their plight concerned a global catastrophe of unimaginable proportions; a disaster the likes of which threatened to eradicate them all in a long, slow mass death. In the Arrival, great portals of foreign golden magic opened across the world seemingly at almost complete random, and from their sparkling depths came the Equestrians, led by their tall, white Queen bearing the symbol of a fiery Sun as her crest. No mere symbol but a true Cosmic force of its own, this new Sun and the power it brought is the root cause of almost all of the ills that have now become so common in our world. Ours was a thriving ecosystem long-established on the gentleness found in the Sun and Moon left behind by the First Mothers, themselves minor Cosmic entities of their own to light and empower our world. The Sun which Celestia absconded with across worlds, a Cosmic One of waning yet unfathomable power, took hold of ours before we knew it. I would be remiss if I did not mention once more that the fabric of our world was founded on Lunar Magic with gentle overtures from Amaterasu’s Sunlight. This precious equilibrium that our world so desperately required to function properly was forever shattered with the introduction of Equestrian Solar Magicks. While the gentle, loving Light of the Sun we had could live in harmony with the Moon above, this new foreign Sun, and the Queen championing its Light, sought to shine brighter than anything else in existence if they could. The balance of powers established in times of old was now irrevocably broken and its people have since been left broken, beaten and ostracized from our own ancestral homes.

To say that, originally, the Eldar were more than gracious hosts to these refugees would be stating the matter almost too lightly. These Equestrians appeared across the globe mostly in scattered groups left to fend and build a new home for themselves in an altogether unfamiliar world. While the lucky ones managed to come through alongside or near unto their illustrious Queen Celestia. A generous donation of land belonging to the Lowland Valkyrie, Direwolves and Pygmy was gifted to Celestia and her numerous subjects to dwell in while Pygmy masons, Thestral Weavers and other such experts in the fields of construction and agriculture all flocked to this new nation of Equestria to get it onto its metaphorical hooves. For decades, like an obsessive passion project, the Eldar sent our finest specialists across dozens of professions and skill-sets to their fledgling nation planted nearly in the center of the Continent. And so we built up for them great works of wood, stone, metal and earth which formed their first (and greatest) cities. Acting as a prime example, their great Capital of ‘Canterlot’, carved and built into the side of the southernmost peak of the sacred White Tooth Mountains, was almost entirely constructed and financed by the great Pygmy Clan of Adamant along with additional funding and assistance provided by the Dwemish Underkingdom of Copperbeaks. Another grand city of theirs, built almost exclusively by Eldar hooves, was that of ‘Cloudsdale’; a lofty bastion of civilization floating in the sky above a lonely mountain peak held sacred by winged Highland Valkyrie, acting as a first home for many of their winged Pegusi. Many of their Unicorns likewise sought common shelter in the grand arcane city of ‘Sire’s Hollow’, itself the pet project of my magically-attuned kin the Lowland Valkyrie and built after the fashion of our own architecture. Indeed, these and several others were amongst those mighty gifts we the Eldar freely gave to Celestia and her people eagerly and graciously. We expected, almost naively, that these strangers from another world would hold our values of peace and cooperation in the same high-esteem as we did. And for a time, the peace of the old world meandered on...but of course, as is the nature of great forces of change such as they, it was never to last. Their Arrival marked the beginning of our very own Departure from this world. And it was not to be a welcome nor peaceful affair; a cascade of knock-on effects of ever increasing intensity till all at once the world was swept up in a landslide of tumultuous events. The ripples through the fabric of our reality and the scope of the damage performed have yet to be fully realized, even after nearly seven centuries.

It began at first with requests for ever more territory in which their rapidly growing numbers needed to comfortably dwell. Whether it was cultural tradition, or merely the result of a particular species’ general mating habits, the Eldar were not particularly quick to procreate, nor in large numbers. All the while, Equestrians seemed to breed like rabbits caught in an endless heat by comparison. For every live birth amongst our own, fifty, sixty or more would be born within their borders and with every passing decade, the demand for more land to house them all became increasingly more taxing. The burden of conscience and loss of land fell on those poor Eldar living on their growing borders, who felt they had to forsake their holdings to these Equestrians as an act of good faith in order to keep the peace. As they continued to propagate however, the use of Solar Magics continued to spread alongside them as well, with what lands they held forced to adapt quickly to the harsher Sun now shining overhead. The world at large was beginning to buckle under the weight of this invasive magic and not many decades had passed since the Arrival; a reflection of how delicate the balance of powers had once been in the Age of the Moon. Signs of decay in the world as we knew it slowly began to make themselves manifest as the years dragged on from there. The deep places of the earth that had once been quiet and devoid of aught but metals and minerals, suddenly began to whisper in the Darkness in a wholly unnatural manner; a sense of foreboding eking out not seen in any form so vicious prior in our world. The skies above also reportedly began to display unusual and altogether unsettling portends, with darker nights and great expanses of foreboding clouds obscuring the Cosmos from our sight. As any self-respecting student of Alchemy may tell you, the science of equilibrium is a force of nature unto itself, and with so much Light snuffing out the Darkness inherent in our world, the world itself attempted to right this imbalance by introducing a new form of Dark. One far more wild, unbridled, and full of malice than the gentle dark face of the Moon. All in a manic attempt, blinded by unfathomable terror, to fight off the invaders and their foreign Sun.

Buried deep beneath the earth, one might say near to the very core of the planet itself in some ethereal realm bordering our own, lies an Abyss. An almost Sentient entity devoid of all Light, it marked the remnants of the Void from which our world was first called into being and remained a source of great, horrific unknowns. Sensing our world was in dire peril from outside forces beyond our comparatively meager power to combat, Terra Firma unleashed her inner evil in a blind panic almost beyond comprehension; a greater Dark born of a motherly defensive instinct to combat that Light which so burned her and her children. Great Chasms piercing the earth to its very foundations formed across the world as this Darkness was called upon in a desperate panic to right the natural world, but…like the peace between the Equestrians and the Eldar, it was never to be. Once begun, the Chasms only continued to open across the world as the Abyss saw its chance to escape its deep earthen prison and consume the world as is its wont. Although hatred could be leveled at this enigmatic, formless entity of utter Darkness for subsequent events, it was ultimately unfounded as like Creation, Destruction was likewise an act of nature and thus a part of the cycle of balance we sought to live by. Initially, the effect these Abyssal Chasms had upon the world was fairly negligible as they only opened in the deepest of caves, far from many a civilized town. However, their effect on the local fauna and flora would mark the genesis of the worldwide need for Witchers. The Feral species of the wild were slowly twisted by exposure to these Chasms, and the Abyssal energies exuded thereby, becoming ever more aggressive and physically imposing. Indeed, they began transforming into new creatures entirely and began posing a serious danger to those who came across them in the wilderness. As their numbers grew unchecked and unnoticed, and their mutations warped them further into ravenous beasts, they began to migrate closer and closer to inhabited regions of the map. Needless to say, they began posing a legitimate danger to the common citizens of all nations great and small, Eldar and Equestrian alike with little regard to race nor status.

The attacks, once they began, started in the most remote corners of civilization, in the hamlets and villages eking out a meager living off the spoils of the land. They were all alike in nature, the occasional wayward citizen of some far-flung village mysteriously vanishing in the night, or likewise suffering some form of brutal personal assault by forces unknown while isolated away from others. These brutal attacks progressed until citizens began going missing in the midst of their own homes, leaving naught but bloody viscera behind and a traumatized family who could only describe vague devilish figures stalking about the night. At first only the smallest hamlets and villages were affected. But within the span of several tense years, even the great walled towns and cities of Eldar and Equestrians alike were beginning to face monstrous attacks in their streets and homes. These beasts, mutated by the Abyss and the horrors within, varied in their levels of intelligence though were near universally found to be malicious (and indeed hungry) towards most things living. They typically paled in comparison however to those Sentient creatures summoned from worlds beyond our knowledge, acting mostly as the heavy enforcers of the Abyss’s will to dominate and consume all life. These were coined broadly as ‘Daemons’, so as to set them apart from those more mindless monsters they looked down upon with the same level of enmity we did. I would again be remiss if I neglected to say that not all monsters, or indeed Daemons, were wholly evil outright as some followed their own paths detached from the will of the Abyss, wishing only to be left in peace like we. Pulled from their homes as they were, some were simply too distraught to be held in thrall by the Abyss and so sought out their own existence in our world as reluctant tenants unable to return home. Of course, this could hardly be said of all of them as a greater many still yet sought after our demise as instructed by the Abyss. Levies in gambeson, soldiers in mail, and noble Knights in plate across all Kingdoms, cities and towns stood in stark opposition to this unnatural assault upon our world. Try as they might however, their weapons were found to be continually inefficient in wounding these creatures stalking them in the night. With tremendous strength and precision, a steel blade could pierce the hides of monsters and with enough of these blows the creature will inevitably fall. However…the trail of corpses left in the wake of subduing even one monster by such means oft numbered the same, or even greater than the number of victims felled by the beast itself. A time once existed wherein a simple group of Nekkers could walk about and kill as veritable gods whilst nigh-on uncontested, felling soldier after soldier sent after them as if they were so much meat pre-canned in steel and textiles.

There was another fatal and much more dire consequence of this outpouring of Abyssal energies across the planet. Our once towering Daughter of the Cosmos Nox, was utterly debilitated by the arrival of yet another, far more toxic foe on our shores. While Celestia and her False Sun had done enough damage to our lives on their own, all without mentioning the outpouring of violence from her subjects, the monsters and Daemons running rampant distorted the very fabric of our world. Each and every Chasm which opened was like another icy knife into Nox’s poor heart as the Abyss ate away at her very lifeforce. Given this was tied inseparably to the general health of the balance of Lunar Magic in the world at large…it was not long before it was too much for even the Daughter of a Goddess to withstand, and she fled her mortal coil. Her Soul vanished then back into the Cosmos, treading ethereal paths none but the Gods and Goddesses knew how to trod. As one, we the Eldar were forced to mourn the loss of our beloved Nox come the wintry eve of the year 47 of the Age of the Sun. The funerary rites and the accompanying periods of mourning unique to every Eldar culture lasted nearly the whole of the following year, with some like the Thestrals and mysterious Kitsune even veiling their faces in respectful sorrow for several years past that. Her death shocked us all as all Eldar nations which yet survived found our common ally stripped from us, and our guiding leader veritably murdered by foreign hooves. Negotiations between us and the Equestrians had all but entirely fallen upon her shoulders in the years prior, and now they fell to each and every nation to establish new treaties and negotiations mostly on their own. Trade deals and land grants became ever easier for Celestia to leverage against us, making full use of our fractured sense of unity that Nox had once fulfilled. Not even a half-century since the Arrival had elapsed, and the living embodiment of the balance in our world had perished to forces beyond any which we had faced before. What in the absolute coldest pits of Hel were any of us to do after the loss of our one unifying leader in this increasingly hostile world? A world which, with no need for repetition, had once been wholly ours and ours alone?

Eventually, these Abyssal forces became too much for any of us to bear over the course of the following decades which followed Nox’s tragic demise. Indeed, even the not-so-fledgling nation of Equestria was facing a threat which concerned its everyday citizenry and nobles alike. And so, it was decided that a unified, professional force of noble warriors was required in order to best combat this universal threat to us all. The first to act in this matter was, rather surprisingly to this day, none other than the growing menace itself: Equestria. The idea put forth in the fall of 51 AoS was rather straightforward, yet it required the participation of many nations and talented people to bring it to full fruition. And so, the call was put out far and wide to gather in Canterlot to discuss the problem of the Abyss, how it affected us all, and indeed how the threat it posed triumphed over our xenophobic tensions. In what is now referred to as the First Conclave of Scholars, professionals from across the world versed in tracking, hunting, trapping and fencing were called upon to assemble in one place in order to train willing volunteers. Left in the wake of their efforts was an organization once formally known as the Monster Hunters of the Free World. Or, as they are better now known, the Hunters of Old, or even more simply, the Old Hunters.

Indeed these Old Hunters were all professionals in their own respective rights, each wearing a matching uniform of armor and adhering to a code of honor that saw them perform their work for free in any nation, accepting only payments of food and lodging in exchange for their macabre services. These twisted beasts’ weakness to silver (and more potently to Lunar Silver) was graciously an early discovery in their formative years spent Hunting and researching the various monsters in the world. Natural mineral silver had imbibed some Lunar power of its own during the advent of the Age of the Moon, rendering it a tool suitable at combating the unnatural Darkness. Any sharpened implement, from a sword to a pitchfork with an extremely pointy end, could be used to harm and indeed slay a common monster, as proven by those poor Souls lost attempting to combat it in the earliest days. However, by some miracle, one of those researching the foundations of our modern-day Bestiary found themselves the esteemed guest of some lesser noble who served his court their evening feast with cutlery of polished silver. As Fate would have it, that same night a Changeling, one of the Daemon species summoned by the Abyss to our world, had infiltrated the manor. Though their misdeeds have tapered off in recent centuries as they were able to draw themselves away from the Abyss through shared force of will, Changelings in the earliest years were far more vicious. As the modest banquet commenced and the silverware was dispensed amongst those assembled, one guest in particular was noted as having an extremely adverse reaction to contact with pure silver. And then, all at once, their guise was ripped away as its true form was revealed amidst what must have been a horrified crowd; a vicious rage following which was indiscriminate and rabid. The attack was only put to a stop upon this honored guest, a notable warrior in their time, burying his silver table knife into the attacker. While the other guards assembled found even their honed steel edges bouncing off its armored carapace, the simple piece of silver cutlery had pierced through like a hot knife through butter, dropping the creature where it stood. As to the details behind its grand intent…it was theorized that it had been enticed there by the Abyss as an intentional agent of Chaos. With their unnatural ability at perfect mimicry, Changelings were (and still remain) a constant source of nagging doubt in many a mind both Equestrian and Eldar alike. However, regardless of their slow transition into a Daemon species of least concern, the Abyss’s greatest weakness had been inadvertently discovered. Soon, those wielding a silver sword became synonymous with those who fought against the encroaching Abyss and its horrific abominations.

Whilst all nations kept themselves divided by force when necessary using levied soldiers and professional Knights to fight political and other such conflicts between ‘civilized’ parties, Hunters were near-ubiquitous across all borders; theirs the right to freely ply their trade wherever it was needed in great haste. Indeed, they were the only universally beloved group to assemble between Eldar and Equestrians so far in our history together. These Hunters were highly effective at their profession for their time, with many a twisted creature’s head being presented as proof of a good Hunt to many a worried civilian in those earliest days. Beasts were slain in droves and innocent flames of life that would have otherwise been extinguished forever were saved by these brave mares, stallions and others who stood against the encroaching Darkness. Even now tales of their exploits remain the subject of intense study and occupy multiple levels of debate by scholars and Witchers alike, as it can be difficult to sift through the myths and legends for those nuggets of solid fact as could be put to official historical record. Unfortunately with no way of closing the Chasms, or indeed even knowledge of their existence in those days, the Solar Magic which caused them to erupt forth only continued to allow them spread and fester in the world unchecked. And with this expanding sickness of the world itself came ever more Abyssal incursion, alongside those numerous murderous denizens which were held in its thrall. The Old Hunters were putting up a truly brave defense, but there was more in store for them in the near future which was to turn their losing battle into a complete rout.

The first Daemons to issue forth from the Abyss towards the end of the 1st century took the Hunters, and indeed the whole world, by such surprise that many simply refused to believe the stories. Even in the wake of more and more Hunters going missing whilst in the field as the years progressed, and the brutal mutilations of corpses found mangled in the streets, fear stuffed wool deeply into peoples’ ears and minds. Terror soon gripped most of the so-called Free World and the number of innocent deaths began to skyrocket once again, like unto and even beyond the time before the Hunters ever began their gruesome work. Hunters themselves began to fall in frightening numbers as the monstrosities they faced moved, fought, thought and acted on a level previous challenges had failed to adequately prepare them for. To say the Old Hunters were terribly underprepared and under-equipped for such an escalation by the Abyss would be the understatement of all existence. Try as they might, their reflexes were simply too slow to compete and their strength to face these Daemons was lacking in the face of such overwhelming dangers. These Daemons were beings usually of potent magic unique unto them which could harness the primal energies of the Void to achieve their own varied agendas, wielding powers only the strongest Archmage or Sorceress Supreme could hope to confidently face in battle. By comparison, these Hunters were mere mortals who, while possessing formal training in swordplay, were typically not touched by magic themselves nor capable of wielding it as a weapon. Silver weapons graciously retained some of their potency against them, proving far more effective in actually dealing damage to these superior beings practically oozing with Abyssal energies. Once again, in less than half a century, something had to be done to combat this growing danger as all nations, despite their comparatively minor squabbles, once more recognized that only a truly combined response would face the challenge appropriately. The escalation of the broad situation necessitated the gloves came off and the time had come for far more exotic, magically-invasive ideas to be considered. The fight for the survival of the status quo, though combative as it was between us and the Equestrians, was comparatively the better reality to endure than being entirely consumed, body and Soul, by the Abyss. The First Conclave had been called together precisely for that very reason only thirty-one years prior, and already, the problem was rearing its ugly head more hideously than ever before.

After many months of deliberation, admittedly mostly bogged down by argumentative discussions that routinely returned to the politically-heavy topics of land and population counts, a Second Conclave of experts was eventually assembled from the group of attending nations. This Conclave of the Scholars once again brought together the brightest minds in Alchemy and studies of the Arcane from as far away as the wandering Mystics to the desert lands of the east, the twisted jungles of Quetzal to the far south, and the frigid tundra of the Crystal Dominion to the far north. At this time, the Direwolves of the White Fang Mountains graciously offered up their most sacred holy site, the Holy Mount also known as Solar Peak, as the location from which this Conclave could conduct their research and experiments. The site of Mother Amaterasu’s departure from Terra Firma, the prevailing hope at the time had been that the blessings of this holiest of sites would be of some possible benefit to the project. The original course of action taken was to combine their various research and attempt to artificially induce the ability to produce magic in previously non-magical individuals. This was seen as the ultimate elusive prize of the Conclave, a reliable method to artificially produce powerful wielders of the Arcane using those surviving Hunters as test subjects for their initial experiments. These early efforts would prove to be mostly in vain as those who did not die outright from the magically induced mutations would end up severely deformed or, be left in a vegetative state; their bodies were simply unable to create the hyper-charged neuron clusters necessary to produce an arcane Aura within themselves. This Aura, found within all those born with magical talent, is a fascinating byproduct of highly evolved cells within the body which channel ethereal energy from the Soul and transmute it into a physical power which had near-limitless possibilities. Very similar in nature to the Wild Magic permeating the natural world around us, those Eldar touched by the gift of the Arcane and were possessed of an Aura (and indeed Equestrian Unicorns likewise) had long since developed their own schools for professional study of the subject.

However, with the biological processes involved being as exceedingly advanced as they were, artificially reproducing those cells which transmute spiritual energy into ‘magic’ is simply a nigh-impossible task. But…not absolutely so. The Conclave’s greatest achievement in this new field of Alchemical-Arcane genetic study was the development of a consistent method of inducing under-developed versions of these cells in hosts which lacked them entirely. These small clusters of hyper-charged, highly-evolved neurons, while magically attuned as they would otherwise naturally be, were only mildly capable of tapping into the flow of Wild Magic. Thus, they only allowed for a limited arcane capacity in the subject being mutated. This was not to say that a natural-esque Aura was never accomplished…eventually. However, to be able to tap into the flow of magic around oneself, as well as artificially induce that ability in others under a controlled setting was a rather marvelous achievement of science, in and of itself. Indeed, multiple fields of scientific study were beneficiaries in the development of Witcher mutations, such as advancements in the fields of health, anatomy, toxicology research and much more. Regrettably at the time however, such minimal Arcane prowess in what subjects survived the process was hardly sufficient enough results to appease the lofty expectations which had been set. Both the Conclave, and those royal patrons whomst so generously sponsored the ambitious project, were rather underwhelmed when all but the simplest spells proved beyond the test-subjects’ magical abilities. Whilst the Druids, Mages, Sorceresses and other learned elite conjured mighty spells and hexes with their magical prowess, those mutated into having magical ability were performing mere parlor tricks by comparison. The excited yammer of brilliant minds collaborating as one was almost immediately changed, replaced by the bitter bickering that had nearly toppled the Conclave before it had even begun a mere few years before.

Mounting failures in the pursuit of artificial magic users caused the Conclave at last to fracture after several years of near-constant experimentation and a frustrating lack of progress. This left only a pair of Zebra Shaman, an Equestrian Mage, a Thestral Sorceress, a Crystalline Xelosani, and their surviving group of subjects as the only hope for the planet. Moral quandaries still existed regarding the ethics of the entire endeavor at multiple levels, from the experimentation upon Sentients to the implications undertaken in using science and magic to create new forms of life. Those who still remained took their small victory earlier in the field of controlled mutations and began to expand their sights beyond the impossible goal they had originally set out to accomplish. Instead of devoting their attention towards attempting to make full-fledged masters of the Arcane capable of warping the world through mighty feats of magic, they would instead focus on enhancing the physical body in other, more general ways. The prevailing logic was essentially to build upon the foundation already set by the Old Hunters and create another team of professional Hunters who could better hope to go hoof-to-claw with Daemons and monsters alike. There was no need to continue to waste lives in the pursuit of Mages and Sorceresses on demand as silver blades had not lost their efficacy on denizens of the Abyss, meaning they still could be beaten if only the one wielding it could keep pace with their opponent. Of course, there were genes aplenty out there for these researchers to attempt and extrapolate for their own ends. Attributes of other species, Feral and Sentient alike, which could prove useful in the mutation process and render a stronger, better suited individual to the arduous task required them.

Countless trials seem to have gone undocumented or otherwise have been omitted from official record, as it is unknown exactly how many elapsed before they had finally managed to induce a controlled set of mutations that improved almost all aspects of the mortal body. The first individual to truly survive these initial Trials with their mind and body wholly intact was an Earth Pony mare by the name of Cherry Blossom, or so the Archives state. Coming out the other side of her transformation capable of feats of strength, speed, stamina and resilience which far exceeded that of any normal pony put up as a control subject, she was a marvel to all who witnessed her. Indeed, what was most remarkable was her ability to conjure magic and sense the flow of magic around herself, albeit in a limited capacity comparable to a properly trained Sorceress. Every subsequent Trial gave valuable information which was used to further perfect the cocktail of mutagenic alchemical brews and transformative magics used to achieve a similar result. These brews, while perfected through the blood and death of numerous participants for the trials, never quite lost their sting and routinely took lives right up until we broadly lost our access to their use. Over time, a proper procedure was devised and established which ensured at least three-to-four participants out of ten survived the mutations and evolved into the next stage in mortal existence. (A statistic which was further improved to a further five-to-seven out of ten by the time of my own transformation some two-centuries later).

Indeed Cherry Blossom, and all others like her to follow throughout history, were members of a brand new species entirely; one entirely made by mortal hooves without the touch of a divine entity in what some still considered the ultimate sacrilege. This new breed of enhanced individuals, biologically distinct from those species we once came from, were termed Witchers almost in mocking by those versed in the Arcane. So-called for admittedly being half-formed beings of magic; fledgling Witches as it were with our limited magical talents like unto backwater peasants dabbling in elementary spellcraft. Despite disappointing all those present possessed of any real magical talent, Cherry Blossom, and those Hunters-turned-Witchers who subsequently survived, exceeded the expectations of what fencing instructors had remained at Solar Peak to ensure none fell out of practice with the blade. Those combat forms which they had been trained in as Hunters were now more effective than ever before; these Witchers rising from the remains of their old lives into that of their far stronger new ones. Tremendous increases in speed and agility allowed duels between Witchers to be done at a blinding speed to the average observer, blows and deflections occurring faster than the normal eye could follow. Streaks of silver gleaming in the Sun peppered by sparks is all most can see when two Witchers apply themselves fully to physical confrontation, exchanging flurries of blows like unto an elaborate, deadly dance. No longer was the fantasy of dodging arrows and bolts at point-blank range a mere fantasy, as every Witcher effortlessly could now do so with ease. Some were even so bold as to snatch the projectile out of the air mid-flight or elsewise safely cutting them in half with tremendous skill. Fallen trees that would take a crew of several dozen and a mighty winch to move could be flung to the side by but a few Witchers, and a lone Witcher could beat a half-dozen of the burliest stallions sent their way while blindfolded and with one hoof tied to the other. All of this and more without so much as a bruise to show for their efforts, aside from the twisted, howling bodies of their unwitting mortal opponents nursing many broken bones.

Other tremendous physical feats were now the realm of possibility for Witchers such as keen, enhanced senses to where we could detect movement in a pitch-black room and make educated guesses as to its origins using things other than sight. Subtle changes in air currents, vibrations through the ground, overwhelming aromas, the slightest noise such as the frantic beat of a heart…there were numerous ways to detect and analyze potential threats. Indeed, a whole new doctrine of study evolved from these expanded senses which dealt with coping with the sheer amount of sensory stimuli all beings were subjected to at every waking hour by the world around us. Coping with the overload and learning to filter out the mindless information in search of useful details that may or may not be of dire importance to life and limb. Training to hone the senses into a blade as sharp as a sword was no task which could be accomplished in an afternoon, or even a decade. It was like unto undergoing a second, far more intensive pubescent period such as we had all once faced in our youths, yet it prepared us for the treacherous Witchers Path we had chosen to trod. A Path no mere mortal being was expected to follow, yet one we followed to our graves.

The first hundred Witchers spent the better part of several years working neck-and-neck with a fresh batch of masters, all in order to develop an entirely new form of combat unique to Witchers. Techniques which would prove most potent against monsters and Daemons alike, taking advantage of the speed, agility and precision imbued by our mutations. The techniques developed over that period and in the centuries which followed allowed for a certain level of...shall we say, acrobatics and flair to be added to our method of combat. Incorporating techniques and moments that would have proven impractical, and indeed dangerous to those lacking such physical enhancements of strength and agility. Pirouettes, dives, rolls and flips, both vertical and horizontal, were incorporated into the various Witcher forms developed at Kaer Solaris alongside those fighting techniques as applicable from traditional schools of swordplay. Meanwhile, Mages, Sorceresses, Druids and others versed in the Arcane tested the full range of magical talent granted to us by the mutations. Granted, their tests provided far fewer and less impressive results comparative to our physical combat abilities, but the foundations of the basic spellcraft used today were laid in place through their patient efforts. After all these years of bloodied trial and bitter failure, to have such a promising specimen as Witchers to unleash upon the enemy of the living world…it was a dream come true for everyone involved. One hundred Witchers, with an unknown number of failed mutations on the books, finally stood ready to take on the world for all they were worth and prove to all who had doubted the project wrong beyond any shadow of a doubt.

All it took were a few short months of ‘demonstrations’ by these first Witchers to awe an audience of Kings, Queens and other assembled Lords and Ladies in the confines of their growing home. Before long, the royal coffers of many a Kingdom were thrown open wide to fund the newly founded Order of Witchers and pave the way for their expansion. After all, a mere hundred Witchers could only cover so much territory and kill so many monsters at any one time. The need for more professionals was at an all-time high and we were set to answer the call with so much gold flooding into the Solar Peak research lab, grand plans that had laid dormant being dusted off with a renewed vigor. The finishing touches on the fortress which would serve as the headquarters of this new Witcher Order were at last laid in place in the year 91 of the Age of the Sun. Its original name has long-since found itself warped over time as the blessed Valley surrounding the Solar Peak became home to additional Eldar aside from the original Direwolf inhabitants. Following in the loosely adhered-to tradition established using Thestral and Lowland Valkyrie naming schemes, the first Witcher fortress has come to be known by the romanticized name of ‘Kaer Solaris’. Or, in more plain terms, ‘The Mountain of Sunlight’, a most fitting name for one of the few places in the world where Amaterasu’s Sun still shone unmolested by the corrupting presence of that of Celestia’s.

Once they felt ready, the Order took the civilian populace by great surprise as the First Born plied their newfound abilities against the mortal threat that had gripped the world in fear for so long. Twirling about like great whirlwinds of blades and magic, the populace was awed and enthralled seeing the Witchers hard at work ridding Canterlot, amongst several other large Equestrian cities and the surrounding countryside, of the immediate Abyssal threat. Indeed, most of the world at-large was unawares as to the existence of the Second Conclave and their private fight against the Abyss, so when an army of mutated individuals suddenly emerged to deal with the problem…it came as quite the shock, or so I have been told. Within the span of several months, any who had doubted those remnants of the original Conclave and accused it of recklessly spending lives and coin on a feckless pursuit were utterly silenced. Instead, they raised their voices to demand members of the Order visit their own lands and liberate them just as they had central and southern Equestria. Indeed...almost as soon as it had formed it seemed, the Order was being dissolved and its members going their separate ways amicably in order to found new fortresses and create more Witchers. All who set forth from Kaer Solaris that day left with the blessings and monetary support of the various Kingdoms which had entreated them for support.

The fractured Order produced a dozen major institutions (and countless smaller, unofficial ones), the Witcher Schools as they came to be known, with each taking on the identity of a particular animal or Sentient species which defined their tactics and equipment. The Schools of the Wolf, Cat, Bear, Viper, Raven, Örn, Tiger, Manticore, Griffin, Swan, Lion and Dragon all sprang up across the known world to serve the needs of the public. All the while, they adhered to a common code of political neutrality and noble chivalry like unto the Hunters of Old in order to maintain our professional reputation. In fact our Schools became registered as part of a greater guild license signed by all partnered nations, gaining us international recognition alongside the likes of more clandestine guilds such as that of the humble smith or carpenter. Ours became a noble institution worldwide by and large, our members serving honorably across the board in the broad defense of the so-called Free World. Folks from all walks of life flocked to our Schools (official or not) in droves as many sought after the glory that came with the title of Witcher. As the Grasses which brought about our mutations were further refined as the decades drew long, the pool of potential School applicants greatly expanded. Young foals, hatchlings, cubs and other children were sometimes willingly given at birth, and other times orphans of one sort of another were taken into our ranks when the world outside would not (or could not) adopt them. Young adults naturally sought us out as well, likewise unto more aged mares and stallions for whom the mutations could bring about a renewed sense of youth.

Indeed, the growing presence of our guild came to be so universal to most Kingdoms of the known world, with Witcher's prowling the Path all about the land. By the opening years of the third century past the Arrival, most Kings, Queens and other esteemed regents had appointed a Chief Witcher as part of their council of advisors to keep them apprised of local Abyssal threats. Even so...nothing good can last forever when the weight of the bad far exceeds it. And all the while its source is never identified nor rectified in short order… That said, our Schools have churned out thousands of honorable Witchers over the centuries, all of whom have taken to the Path with great gusto in the honest defense of the innocent, this time accepting royal coin in exchange for their services like unto any other professional trade. Centuries of Witcher successes have since taken their toll however on the Abyssal threat, and those not so lucky as to share in a Witcher’s excessive longevity have passed on leaving those memories of horror in the past while the young looked ever onwards towards a brighter future. A future bought for them through the blood, sweat and deaths of countless Witchers who fought tooth, hoof, claw and fang to cleanse the Darkness. To walk the Path in those days was to be the pride of whatever Kingdom it was you happened to be in at the time. Career soldiers and levied guards alike fawned at your steps whilst the mindless populace bent ear towards your learned opinions. To interfere with a Witcher in the course of a sanctioned Hunt was to cross the seat of royal power directly in most places once upon a time…

Our Golden Age felt like it would never end. The Path always calling our name to wander the world as we saw fit, plying our profession for payments in food and good lodging as the various Kingdoms always provided for our monetary needs; many a smithy or leather tanner all-too eager to offer their own services to us to maintain our equipment whilst away from our respective Schools. Indeed these were the best centuries of my and many others’ lives and a time we all longed for the longer the years stretched on. However...our ability to kill monsters and Daemons alike had unexpected consequences of its own as we were becoming numerous, highly organized and utterly decimating the creatures we Hunted. In all due fact, the work myself, my forebears, my peers of the Third Born and all those of the Fourth and Fifth had begun to render their numbers officially endangered by analysts. The need for Witchers was on the decline with every passing decade as Daemons were vanquished and Chasms sealed shut, forcing the terrors of old further into the recesses of fading memories. Once again cities, towns and hamlets became free of monsters and the threat of Abyssal incursions was reduced to the deepest depths and wildest fens farthest from civilization. So much so…that some of us began to abandon the Path altogether in search of cheaper coin for less effort and paperwork. A world of unsavory work unbecoming of our station was introduced into one of our Schools in particular through a slow process of acclimatization.

And then, all of a sudden it seemed to myself and many others, the world had begun to turn against us for the very things that had made us special. Those mutations which had made us famous now became a metaphorical millstone of infamy and shame to be worn around our necks much like our Medallions which denoted our guild. And as for the two swords we carried, as much a symbol of our profession as our Medallions, they earned us ever more ire and mistrust amongst Equestrian citizens…and they were everywhere now. All of a sudden...we had become villains of a sort to the ‘civilized’ world we had worked so tirelessly to render safe enough to civilize to begin with. Rendered pariah and outcasts, my fellow Witchers and I continued on the Path ahead as indeed it was the only life we had ever known. We continued to wander the world in search of Abyssal threats to combat and innocent lives to save, same as we ever had. Indeed, the world at large began to start viewing our guild with growing ire and distrust as some amongst us began to favor other less-than-savory sources of income. While members from all Witcher Schools have fled the Path in search of lives of their own design, one School in particular began to tread a dark path stained not in the blood of monsters, but in the blood of fellow Sentients. Through contract assassinations, questionable bodyguard work, street enforcement and far worse endeavors, our reputation began to be soiled by unscrupulous actors that have since been made Anathema. If only it were so easy for such hated persons to fade into the pages of history, yet we were not so lucky as to be spared their continued existence. Indeed…an entire School has since been made Anathema to our guild and has gone on to dissolved itself of its own accord in willing rebellion. They have since become the foundation upon which Celestia would build her elite agents of royal enforcement in her lands, her so-called Witch Hunters for their penchant for finding and eliminating all threats to her reign which included users of foreign magic.

In the years which have followed, the centuries of death and labor which we had suffered till then was all but entirely swept away under a wave of propaganda. Propaganda which promoted an aggressive policy of ‘Equestria First and Foremost’ and saw Celestia sign into law a decree which allowed for greatly expanded controls placed on any non-Equestrian living within their ever growing borders. Come fifty-years and some change since the Cleansing, and we were now facing young, fiery Equestrians who hadn't even been born before the world was forever changed. Small-minded youths which only saw the wide-spread poverty and squalor of the lower class laboring to support the upper and thought to blame it upon others. Fed falsified tales of how Equestria’s burgeoning Empire came into being by their inherent strength of will and determination, they thought so very highly of themselves now. Despite their own lowly position in life, they were led to believe it was the presence of the Eldar which was the cause of their measly existences. Before long, the many things we had all done for them from the time of the Arrival until now meant nothing as names were erased from their records and deeds were misattributed. Equestria was in no shortage of heroes of its own, both within and without the Witcher profession, and it was not many years before the deeds of the Eldar of old were attributed to Equestrian legends in an effort to bolster their own history. Within another decade or two, lies such as those would become so-called ‘common knowledge’ amongst them and our efforts to discredit them would only grow more difficult and combative.

One question always hangs above our heads like a weighty blade, however: what would the world do once we were deemed no longer necessary? We had already begun to gain unsavory reputations akin to the beasts we slew amongst the Equestrian populace who had expanded to encompass much of the known world. Celestia's precious Witch Hunters, and those they forcibly inducted, were shifting to take over our status as monster-killing professionals, and local forces in cities and towns started carrying silver weapons for their garrison forces. Our jobs were being taken over by amateurs playing as if they were professionally-certified graduates of our esteemed Schools. It was also far from a guarantee that the tentative peace between the Eldar and they would endure for the long-term. Though the Race Wars as they were known had officially come to a close in the fourth year past the Cleansing, racial tensions ran higher than ever before. An even heavier blade of thought waited in the wings close behind that of the first…how many of us would survive the coming tide were it to rise against us once more? We had weathered the ever-growing maelstrom this far, yet the decay visible in the corners of the world stood as testament to the glory years that had long since passed us by. Nox was dead, our people slain in droves, our Kingdoms gone or reduced in splendor…and many of the famed Witcher Schools of old laid in ruins or operated in a subdued manner so as to avoid Celestia, or her people's, mighty ire. What did the mysteries of the future hold in store for those of us who still yet lived?

* * * * * * * * * * *