When creating a witcher, it's important to think about their relationship to the world around them. Some believe that these mutations turn the witchers into monsters themselves. Over time, these temporary mutations begin to have a permanent effect on witchers, altering their body chemistry and physiology. When ingested, these elixers grant them heightened senses, increased strength, and a myriad of other effects. Witchers can synthesize a variety of potions, oils, and other concoctions for any situation. The use of alchemy is a staple of witcher training, and separates them from other hired swords. When they complete their training, they are given a silver medallion and are sent off into the world as tools specifically designed to kill monsters.
#Witcher 3 brew the decoctions of the grasses how to
Witchers extensively study the behaviors and habits of the monsters they hunt, learning how to identify them, track them, and most effectively kill them. Their bodies are transformed not only through rigorous physical exercise, but also mysterious rituals such as the "Trial of Grasses". They are taught swordsmanship, hand to hand combat, and a variety of other weaponry, as well as how to cast simple spells via magical hand gestures. In these places they are instructed in the ways of hunting monsters.
Witchers typically begin their training as children, often unwillingly taken from their families and brought to castles nestled deep in the wilderness. They are trained from youth for one purpose alone: to hunt the strange, wicked creatures that live outside of civilization. The tools of their trade are secrets passed from one generation of witcher to the next. Witchers are a different breed of warrior, their bodies morphed through constant use of potions and decoctions, honed through intense physical training and conditioning. After the nervous villager places the creature in a grave under the hearth of his hut, the human guides him through the ritual of naming, and the botchling's curse fades. She pirouettes, bringing her sword around with the added power of the spin, and the queen's head drops with a thud to the ground.Ī human waves his hand, fingers contorted in a calculated gesture, and the botchling stops in its tracks, magically placated. He draws the blade off his back and silently slinks into the dark, musty cave to hunt his quarry.Īlmost dancing, a lithe tiefling nimbly dodges through the poison spines and gnashing teeth of the spider-like monsters, closing in on the queen. Looking into the inky blackness of a basilisk lair, he downs a vial of strange, orange liquid, his eyes dilating as the potion takes effect. The silver medallion around a half-orc's neck hums lightly.