31st of Linden 1277

This is strange to even write about in this journal. I was never very comfortable with talking about sexuality. So… I slept with Menner. We talked, and I actually laughed, and it just happened. I never slept with a man before. Or a sphinx. Male anything. Not that I had anything against it, it just didn’t happen. I slept with a few women during my time off-world. Mostly one-night stands. Like your typical witcher.

Menner left early in the morning to work for Barrack. I should get done with this alchemy and check if the town guard needs anything today. If they don’t need anything else, perhaps it’s time to move on from Novigrad. Menner will understand. We talked about my lack of commitment. Not that this prejudiced city would understand what happened between us. Unless they would take him for a woman.

I also learned yesterday Menner was not just disguised as a humanoid. Barrack fully mutated him. Silver no longer harms him.

If someone found this journal now, it would probably spell death (or an attempt at one) for us both. Maybe if this journal is found centuries later, we will be clever enough to know a man is not measured by who he loves.

If Barrack can turn a… post-conjunction creature into a non-silver allergic non-human… that is truly astounding.

Thanks to my information, there is a big action against the witch hunter hideout in the slums. Zhenor wants me to join the assault. I hope they do not expect me to sneak. It’s not exactly my strong side.

I just witnessed some kind of merchant or noble telling a strumpet to “fear the gods”. Not sure why her profession would agitate the gods. But since I’m in the mood for denying societal norms, I’ll write this down: the only reason I’d fear the gods is their power.

Some people say gods aren’t real, but I know they are. But in truth, they are just really old, really powerful monsters. Once I fought Moloch, the “one true god” of Gemmera. It turned out to be just a really old monster. It looked like a cross between a fiend, a chort and a leshen. A gargantuan, muscular, cornigerous, ornery bastard. My silver sword and relict oil merely kept it at bay. What truly bound it to the mortal world was his statue.

For centuries, Gemmerians laid offerings to Moloch – animals, as bloody as they could. Often, humans. Or children. Nilfgaard attempted to outlaw the practice, but many people continued it in secret. Every year at the eve of autumn the altar ran with blood. When the offerings became too small, the “god” grew angry and began killing and cursing people. That’s where I come in.

Morvran Voorhis gave me orders to go to Gemmera and find the truth behind this cult, as the entity was clearly real to some degree. I began by breaking the altar. Then Moloch’s cultists came out and I slew them. That’s when the monster awakened. As I already said, my weapons and alchemy had little effect on it. Only when I broke the statue with Morvran’s soldiers’ help, it weakened. That’s when I was able to slay it. I cannot be certain it is truly dead, but at least its power over this world was dispelled. If it returns, it will be centuries from now. But until then, the people of Gemmera and free and cultists are powerless.

I think the other gods are the same. Melitele, Kreve, they’re all just old and powerful monsters sleeping beneath old places. The sooner we get rid of them, mankind – and other races as well – will be truly free to make its own fate.

Moloch did make some prophecies. Blood-chilling rhymes about seeing strange suns and stomping on “earth not of earth”. He said in the end I would try to put a crown fit for a man on my head, but the weight will crush my skull and drain my blood. Something about a murder of crows I hatched myself feasting on my dreams… I do not remember the exact rhymes. Some of them are coming true, which is really creepy. I suppose he did really see things.

Judging by some things Moloch said during our fight, he might be the same thing as Coram Agh Tera.

Drowner brains are becoming a rare commodity. Never thought I’d see the day.


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