<div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/8c88dbeaf23d01386803a3ee6cf2bf80/tumblr_mmr77lWhN11r495v5o2_250.gif)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Conor<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Kaer Morhen - Courtyard<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: His armour (https://staticdelivery.nexusmods.com/mods/952/images/663-7-1442050519.jpg)<br/><hr/><br/>The Witcher known simply as 'Conor' had been riding all morning. His last contract had been out Mahakam way, a particularly nasty Katakan. Those Dwarves knew how to put away their drink but that was hardly a secret. Though he had been on the road near ever since he was rather sure the hangover had only left him now. The mountain air on the approach to Kaer Morhen had perked him up something fantastic. As much as he loved to ride about on his<em>Empress</em>his arse was half way to leather. It would be good to be home. That's what Kaer Morhen was to him, home. The Nilfgaardian had been just a wee lad when he was handed over to the Sorceresses, he had no real memory of his parents. They were naught but ghosts that whispered to him in restless dreams. The Sorceresses had been his mothers, though some would not be amused if they had been referred to in such a manner.<br/><br/>It all went to the back of his head as the Witcher came upon his final approach to home. "<strong>Come on girl, we're here!</strong>" if the horse was at tired from the road as he was she gave no sign, she picked up her pace without any difficulty and carried them along the last of The Witcher's Trail until he passed through the gates.<em>Home</em>. This was where he could put down his boots with the least worry about them being stolen, where he could watch Iska create a lightning storm or where Deirdre of Lindenvale would patch up his wounds. This was where if you were cold, Bellatrix could create a fire out of<em>anything</em>and Elias could use it to cook whatever was fished from the pond that day. It was where he could go hunting with Mael of Vizima and watch him hit a boar from further out than any man had a right to hit a boar. It was where he could watch Arlaine of Vengerberg...well he mostly just watched Arlaine of Vengerberg but that was a different matter entirely.<br/><br/>Dismounting his horse he let those 'viper eyes' gaze over the ever familiar courtyard. He had been on the path for months, a particularly active year. Nothing had changed though, it was just as he remembered it. It seemed no matter how much work they did to patch the place up there was always something that needed to be fixed. No wonder, they were no stonemasons and it was not a small Castle. At least not in his experience. "<strong>Well come on then you lot, anyone going to welcome me back?</strong>' he called out with something akin to a smile taking over his face. They said Witchers were clean of emotions, it wasn't true. Well it wasn't quite right. Certainly it was clear to see his love for the place as he took the reigns of<em>Empress</em>and guided her towards the stables.<br/><br/>It was good to be home.