Title – The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt

Genre: Action role-playing game. Fantasy world based on Slavic mythology

Author: The game is based on “The Witcher” series of fantasy novels written by a Polish writer Andrzej
Sapkowski
Game developer: CD Projekt Red, a Polish video game developer
Game release date: 19 May 2015
Publishment date of “The Witcher” novel series: 1986-2013 (Polish), 2007-2018 (English).
The Witcher 3 Characters. Journal Entries
Ciri
Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon — what can I possibly say about her? That we call her Ciri
for short, that she was born in 1251, that she has ashen hair and a scar on her cheek?
All true, and that's the Cirilla I know best, the one I first laid eyes upon those many
years ago, the one who seemed thoroughly, well, not ordinary, but certainly not as extraordinary
as she in fact is.
For Cirilla is also a highly-skilled witcher, heiress to several thrones, the last bearer of
the Elder Blood, a powerful Source endowed with exceptional magic talent and the Lady of
Time and Space. Her hair color and date of birth seem... rather incidental now, don't they?
I could also tell you she is Geralt's adopted daughter - but that would be a gross
simplification. Ciri is much more. She is his Destiny, his Unexpected Child, someone bound to
the witcher by Fate's most inextricably tangled fetters.
Following age-old witcher tradition, Geralt took Ciri to Kaer Morhen when she came
into his care. There he and Vesemir taught her in the ways of the professional monster slayer. It
was then that her magic talents were first revealed, and they discovered she was a Source.
Ciri's gift proved a curse as well. Because of it, she would one day have to hide from the
entire world — even Geralt.
Ciri's biography contained one more great secret. Her natural father was none other than
the emperor of Nilfgaard, Emhyr var Emreis. His words confirmed the fears swirling in Geralt's
mind. Ciri had returned and was in mortal danger, for the unrelenting Wild Hunt was on her
trail.
Yennefer made it clear why the Wild Hunt wanted Ciri: Eredin wanted the power latent
in her Elder Blood. She also let Geralt know that Ciri had been seen in war-ravaged Velen as
well as in Novigrad, the largest city in the world.
Reports that Ciri has spent time at Crow's Perch proved true. She was there as the guest
of the local warlord, Phillip Strenger, also known as the Bloody Baron. Despite his violent
monicker, this man treated Ciri with kindness and respect.
It seemed that during Ciri's time in Velen she got into a quarrel with some sort of witch
or witches in the swamps.
Geralt learned the truth of Ciri's time in the swamps from the mouths of the hideous
Crones themselves. Even Ciri, better able to hold her own than most anyone in existence, was
lucky to escape from these powerful beings alive and intact.

Geralt of Rivia
Many cannot fathom the friendship Geralt of Rivia and I, Dandelion, have shared all
these years. When we first began breaking bread together, spiteful tongues said he'd be better
off cutting my throat and dumping my body in a hollow tree – before I provoked someone else
into doing that same to us both. Those individuals spoke out of pure jealousy, for Geralt was my
dearest friend, a fact which he gave ample evidence of on numerous occasions.
I could say a great deal about that world-famous monster hunter, the man know in Elder
Speech as Gwynbleidd, or, in our younger (yet no less noble) tongue, as the White Wolf. For
Geralt of Rivia is a truly exceptional individual. A brief encounter might tempt one to label him
a mere swinger of swords, a simple monster-catcher, a rough-and-tumble practitioner of a dirty
trade – but peer closer and you will soon discover he is a man of unplumbed depths, unique
views and vast, world-spanning experience.
On the surface, he is introverted, tight-lipped, and one might even say gruff, but
underneath lies an overflowing sea of goodwill, good humour, and an honest readiness to help
his friends, be it with a bit of sound advice or the masterful application of his blade.
Setting aside cumbersome false modesty, I can say that I know his story better than any
man alive. I was with him through hard times and good, helping with wise advice, warm words
and razor wit. As a result, I am a vital part of his story, both in its earlier and present portions. It
is thus my duty to continue my chronicle and, for the benefit of future generations, put in
writing the next chapter of his deeds and exploits.
The Witcher 3 Bestiary. Journal Entries
Leshen
We never hunt in these woods. Never. Even if it means the whole village starves.
— Mulliver, ealdorman of Hoshberg in lower Aedirn
Humans have long been fascinated by the wildwood—living in it’s vicinity was the
source of tales about creatures ferocious and benign, friendly and hostile. As they started to
settle deeper and deeper into the forests, respect for the unknown diminished. Lumber was
gathered, stone abodes were built. As the pestilence that was humanity grew bigger, so did the
forest’s and its inhabitants’ wrath.
At the heart of the forest lies a secret. In a place born of darkness and primeval nature,
resides a mighty and terrifying guardian. Immune to human steel, it is believed the Leshen is
nature’s way of protecting the forest and the animals that live within it from the threat humans
started to pose upon their ravaging expansion deeper into the lands.
Along with the animals it commands, the Leshen became a force to be reckoned with.
Sometimes worshipped, this creature can heal other woodland animals and summon nekkers or
crows to protect the forest. Its attacks are slow, but deadly—be cautious not to get shackled by
its underground roots.
Leshens dwell in dense, primeval woods. Fiercely territorial creatures, they hunt with
stealth and cunning as their only companions. They use their inborn magic to control the plants
and animals within their territory — and so when stalking them, half the battle is merely getting
near enough to strike. Leshens old enough to earn the appellation "ancient" wield advanced
skills and tactics that make them particularly dangerous.
Chort
Chorts are smaller than fiends, true. But still big enough to kill.
— Agnes Thistle, herbalist from the Black Forest
Chorts are the somewhat smaller kin of fiends and bumbakvetches. Yet any witcher who
thinks their diminutive stature means they present no danger commits a grave error — the kind
that can end his career permanently. These denizens of dark and ancient woods are some of the
most dangerous monsters known to man.
 Legends often mistake chorts for sylvans, ascribing to them the ability to speak, stand
on two legs, gobble up cabbage, play pranks and work mischief around the household. The
arrival of a true chort in a region soon puts an end to such tales. The creatures do not speak, at
best communicating with each other through grunts, snorts and moans. They get about on four
legs and as for their "mischief"... they destory farmsteads, devouring anything that can be
devoured, including cabbage, if such is available, but also extending to poultry, pork, the family
dog and then the family itself.
Chorts fight with little finesse, running straight towards their opponent and trying to
know him to the ground with the force of their charge. After downing their foe they bite, kick
and strike with their claw-tipped paws. Due to their size and four-legged posture, they are
mistly unperturbed by the force of the Aard Sign, and the regenerative powers of their body
allow any wounds they recieve to heal at a rapid pace.
Higher vampire
Men, the polite ones, at least, would call me a monster. A blood-drinking freak.
— Emiel Regis, high vampire
Only a mutual thirst for blood links higher vampires to their distant and much more
primitive cousins: ekimmaras, alps, katakans and the like. Higher vampires are, in fact, much
more similar to humans than to those bat-like blood slurpers. They not only resemble us in
appearance, but also share our intelligence and behavioural patterns. This means they do not
squat in distant forest or hide in the shadows. On the contrary, they are particularly fond of
cities, where they live out deceivingly normal lives. Even witchers are not capable of
recognizing them at once, for their medallions remain perfectly motionless in the presence of
higher vampires. Yet all these similarities should not blind us to an essential difference: unlike
men, higher vampires are immortal. Those who have faced them in combat and survived can be
counted on one hand.
It is a witcher's good fortune that higher vampires are extremely rare — and not all are
dangerous to humans. Though they do have a taste for blood, they do not need to drink it to
survive. Some higher vampires have renounced feeding on humans altogether and do no harm
to anyone, but others give in to their desires. A witcher who braves fighting a higher vampire
must bear in mind that he faces a monster endowed with incredible strength, one able to
manipulate men and animals, turn invisible and transform into a giant bat – and furthermore one
which it is nearly impossible to kill. In other words, even an experienced monster slayer should
think twice before accepting a contract on one of these creatures, even if half a kingdom and a
princess' hand is in the offing.
The Witcher 3 in-game literature
A Portrayal of the Elder Races
What is a nonhuman? The answer is simple. As the very name suggests, it is something
which resembles, and yet nevertheless is not, a human. Though it walks on two legs, speaks a
tongue similar to our own and dresses in similar attire, it all the same has more in common with
base beast than noble man.
Dwarves are like moles. They feel best underground and avoid direct sunlight. They like
to live in filth, forever smudging themselves in mud and slime. They love everything that can be
found within the earth - rocks, metal, minerals of all shape and color. It is also said that, like
their kindred moles, they feed most readily on worms, roaches and other nightcrawlers.
 Halflings, for their part, are more reminiscent of gophers. Fat, lazy and loud in that
typical rodent way, their minds are filled only with thoughts of food and drink, which they steal
from other, nobler beasts and greedily squirrel away in their hovels. They are marked by a cruel
craftiness. You could be dying of hunger and they would not share a meal with you. You could
be howling from poverty, and they could be swimming in gold, and yet they would still fleece
you to the last crown. You could do nothing but good to them, and they would still stab a knife
in your back.
Elves, in turn, seem related to the birds of prey that dwell in far-off Zerrikania. They
care most for colored feathers. They would most readily spend all day staring at their reflections
in the water and singing their own praises. They are so awash in self-love that they no longer
feel any desire towards members of the opposite sex of their own species. Their appearance,
unquestionably pleasant to the eye, is highly misleading, for they are extraordinarily cruel and
any who judge them by looks alone they first dupe and then kill in cold blood. The best proof of
this? The so-called Scoia'tael, bandits that claim to fight for freedom, but in truth only long to
kill humans.
All these vile so-called "elder" races are, to our great fortune, slowly dying out. Joy fills
the heart of every right-thinking man at the thought that his great-grandchildren will never
know them, that in their day dwarves, halflings and elves will be merely fairy-tale characters
used to scare young, impressionable children.
Golem, or Man's Most Faithful Servant
Despite what you might have heard, the first golem was created not by a powerful mage
or an elven Sage, but by a simple dwarf from Maribor named Bonaventura Sesto - a
brickmaker.
The fateful act of creation took place over a century ago, when the persecution of
nonhumans was in full swing in Maribor. Elves and dwarves had been accused of bringing an
epidemic to the city - though it was later discovered the outbreak had been caused by a man
named Mattheo, a barkeep's dogsbody at the Golden Goose Inn. This Mattheo was charged with
both serving meals and cleaning the latrines, and would only wash his hands once a month, and
then not very thoroughly. The rest, as they say, is history.
The persecution of nonhumans was limited at first to robbing their shops, arson and the
occasional beating, but the violence soon escalated into a bloody pogrom. As the city guard
looked on without lifting a finger, humans murdered elves and dwarves during three days and
three nights of slaughter, killing over three hundred individuals, including the aforementioned
Bonaventura Sesto's entire family.
Driven mad with grief and thirsting for vengeance, Bonaventura molded a ten-foot-tall
humanoid out of clay, and then carved the names of the slain nonhumans onto it, along with a
smattering of dwarven curses. Once finished, he slit his own throat - and when his blood
splattered the gigantic statue, it came alive and started walking towards the city. Bonaventura
had his sweet revenge on his persecutors - his creation killed almost five hundred humans,
including the mayor and the entire city council, before the soldiers of the city garrison could
take it out using their ballista.
The Conclave's later investigation found that Bonaventura had possessed hidden magic
talent. Though he had never had any training, the torrent of powerful emotions running through
him at the time of his death flushed out his latent powers and created from them a new spell.
After numerous alterations and improvements, one can now cast this spell without sacrificing
one's life - and golems guard laboratories, libraries and palaces across the Continent.