Lothar's notes appear as a book in The Witcher: Monster Slayer. They provide information about Lothar's curse.
Associated quests[]
Journal entry[]
- Lila convinced me to write everything down. She says that literacy breeds responsibility, that one must bear witness. That - although I hardly gained much myself - some other fellow may benefit from my testimony. So be it.
- Firstly: I deserved that curse.
- I had seen barely fifteen winters. Most of the day, I'd help Father at the smithy, and when I wasn't helping... well, I was roving the countryside with the boys, stirring up trouble. Nothing much. Swiped a few apples here. Shot the miller's dog with a slingshot there. We fought with sticks for life or death. Once, I even stole real swords from under Father's nose. He really tanned my hide for that...
- We were thick as thieves in those days. Everyone wanted to play with us - but we didn't let in just anyone. This one poor sod, Anso, followed us like a pup. Skinny as a fencepost and clumsy, too. Tripped standing still, that one. Ruined every game. Got himself caught by old Jon during an apple heist. We told him to leave us alone. We'd run away, hide when he walked by He certainly was resilient, though - I had to give him that. So we started sending him on outlandish errands. If he completed ten of them, we'd welcome him into the pack. And he kept on completing them.
- He ran through the village, naked. Carried a stolen honeycomb from Miron's beehive, stung all over. Counted grains of sand. And more, until the time came for the tenth errand. Well, because we really didn't want him, I said, "Go to Big Grove and bring us a monster egg." Every idiot knows that no one just walks into Big Grove. Place is teeming with kikimores. I never thought for a moment that he'd actually go.
- "Well, that's horseshit." It's what I told myself later. But the truth was that I thought it'd be quite the spectacle, Anso fleeing the kikimores. Shit himself in terror, he would. Hilarity would ensue. I suppose it crossed my mind that maybe they'd just kill him, but I didn't dwell on it for long.
- His mother cursed me. I'd do the same in her shoes. Or something even worse.
- I thank my lucky stars that I didn't kill anyone except animals those first few full moons. And soon, I met another werewolf who showed me how to brew an infusion of wolfsbane. From that day on, full moons were bearable. Under control.
- Lila sent out bundles of letters. In every idle moment, she analyzed every response, though there were few. Finally, she received some vital information concerning witchers, who apparently not only slew monsters but also knew the secrets of curses. Ways to break them. I'll admit, I was uncertain, summoning someone who lived off of slaying beasts like me, but Lila... For her, anything. And for Odilia. And Baldo.
- It didn't work. The witcher seemed sensible enough and tried his various methods. A shirt of fool's parsley, willow branch beatings, potions, rituals. In the end, he gave up. He assured Lila that sometimes, it is what it is. Universal methods don't always work, and finding a specific cure can be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Maybe he just couldn't find the cure - or maybe this is one curse that just can't be broken. He pulled me aside, and with a gloomy expression, he said that no curse could be lifted if the accursed couldn't forgive himself. That my attitude was only sealing the curse's hold on me. And, so be it.
- He gave me the name of a village and an inn he patronized a few times a year in case something changed. But in his eyes, I saw the truth: he suspected he'd never see me again.