The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt How To Determine The Preferable Faction

Introduction

 
Before delving within the deep and archaic lore of each faction, it may be prudent to depict which factions are considered prominent enough to reasonably be perceived as a major prominent order within the realm of the Witcher’s. A major faction can notably be defined as an entity capable of autonomously and efficiently governing land, being able to hypothetically stave off threats and wield notable influence. To swiftly elaborate, the major factions are Redania, Nilfgaard, Scoia’tael, Skelliger, Novigrad and Temeria. 
 
 
 
Halt, passerby, I as the clairvoyant Thundercluck am able to perceive your next inquiry and yes, I will acknowledge that other factions and collective reside within the realm. However, I ask yee, what genuine power do these relatively minor factions hold? They are but minor contenders, scrabbling for the attention and aid of their overlords, to assist them in their petty squabbles. The lodge of Sorceresses is a radical sector of feminist ideologues, led by their supreme matriarch Philippa Eilhart, a disabled female who places crystals within her eye sockets, whilst squawking about as a parrot. The members of this group she leads, despite bearing formidable abilities in the realm of the arcane art, are little more than glorified caregivers, ensuring that their dementia riddled leader is safeguarded. In regards to the fire crazed zealots that patrol the city Novigrad, while they do maintain a steady grip upon the city and are efficient in their practices of publicly burning depraved sods, they are little more than a band of zealous lunatics, ones who dedicate themselves to burning sorcerers alive. Overall, while this band of fanatics are formidable in their own right, they are merely a portion of what comprises Novigrad’s main faction. Furthermore, in regards to the leaders of the Wild Hunt, they are at best a group of Inuit terrorists, who are dedicated in the abduction of Ciri, a female they regard as a suitable maid to pollinate with. While they do frequently terrorise the local populace in search of the damsel they are trailing, that can hardly constitute their radical animist group as a legitimate faction, one that is deeply attuned and imperative to the events unfolding throughout the Witcher. Overall, the Wild Hunt is merely a group of lust driven Inuits, who ride atop sleighs and make a mockery out of Christmas, by luring naive sods in with tributes, only to then batter them. Conclusively, in regards to the final minor faction, the Witcher’s that reside at Kaer Morhen, they are frankly a group of wizened hermits. Hermits, who dedicate themselves to extensively inducing their entities with copious amounts of potent narcotics, only to then combat against lethal creatures, solely for the promise of funds and a temporary dopamine rush. As is evident by the wholly accurate descriptions of each minor faction, it should be conspicuous as to why said factions are not situated atop the major factions pedestal, nor why they are regarded with any form of interest exceeding that of mild curiosity, spurred on by an inquisitive nature. 
 
 

Redania

 
 
 
Redania is a faction that bears a distinct reverence to the sacred waterfowl. The Redanians clad the majestic avian creature in royal wreathes and belay it with many a tribute. The realms inhabitants affection for the fowl is so deep and earnest that the fowl has been emblazoned upon the factions own national icon. Redania is led by a diagnosed schizophrenic and direct descendent of Ted Kazyncski, King Radovid V, a charming chap, who in attempt to emulate his avian idols prances about as a fowl, emitting various bawking noises. Asides from his peculiar antics, Radovid V is what could solely be described as a ruthless individual, bearing a deep detest for mages, herablists and soothsayers, groups that he frequently burns atop a pyre. Asides from his detest towards those who bear a distinct mystical talent, Radovid appears to despise non humans also, torturing the amiable critters in various fashions. Frequently during public speeches, Radovid ceases proclaiming his words of wisdom, to abruptly waterboard a hafling. On other occasions, he has been perceived clipping off the ears of Elves, brutalising Dwarves with hammers for the sheer amusement and slaughtering, for preaching nihilism within Redania. As a result of Radovid’s deep distaste towards mages, a clandestine order has been concocted, known as the Witch Hunters. These hunters function as a secret police unit, tasked with subtly uncovering and apprehending any who utilise magicks within the area. Overall, despite the factions genocidal and eccentric tendencies, they are led by a relatively firm leader, who is able to rule in an effective, albeit brutal manner. 
 
 

Scoia’tael

 
 
 
Oh God, this rabid Elf is threatening to slit my throat and prance atop my corpse if I don’t place his faction within a positive light. Ahem, the Scoia’tael are a lovely group of pacifists, who would never harm a living being. They merely seek to acquire autonomy for non humans, a goal they attempt to obtain by engaging in many MOSTLY PEACEFUL protests. I love the Scoia’tael and so would my family, if they weren’t being held under duress by pointy eared harlots. Contrary to rumours that the Scoia’tael slaughter humans indiscriminately, they are as previously reiterated, a PACIFISTIC ORGANISATION, ones who would never cause harm unto another. It is fortunate that the contrarians who feel the desire to debate the validity of the Scoia’tael’s pacifism swiftly disappear, often appeared in the wilderness as a maimed, gargled mess. Overall, they are a lovely faction and it is recommended for all humans to load up their wagons with copious heirlooms and valuables and avoid hiring an armed escort, nor arming themselves, as such actions cost finances which could be better spent in renovating ones caravan, or perhaps donating to an altruistic order, such as the Scoia’tael. Lastly, if anyone wishes to raise concerns over my safety, fret not, for I am virtually unscathed and am proclaiming my love for the pointy ears out of my own volition. Anyone who states otherwise is merely unhinged and perhaps may require a visit from the Scoia’tael, who I frequently hear are extraordinary medical practitioners, albeit with unconventional methods at remedying a patients ails. Overall, praise the Scoia’tael. 
 
 
 
Oh glorious, the pointy ears have vanished, now I can finally depict the truth regarding this decrepit, surreptitious organisation. The Scoia’tael, to proclaim it bluntly, are a rogue militant group, claiming to seek autonomy for all non humans. The Scoia’tael persevere in accomplishing this goal, by inexplicably waylaying merchants, executing children and extorting passerby’s out of their coffers. As such, this faction is effectively the embodiment of the IRA, being comprised of non humans such as Elves, the Irish, Halflings and Dwarves. The groups name is Gaelic for squirrels, with the name being reflective of the factions peculiar attire, which sees sees them masquerading as squirrels, perhaps in an attempt to influence the fashion field for non human society. The hierarchical structure of this faction is rather peculiar, as it appears to be based upon an individuals merit in combat, intertwined with brutality issued towards humans. Politically, the governing leadership appears to be operated by a group of psychotically malleable Elves, who are susceptible to trickery and bear an uncanny likeness towards a naive, overly trusting child, one that assumes every stranger preferring a gift inherently bears benign motives. As such, whilst the faction is arguably justified in their conflict against their human adversaries, their leadership is in shambles, with the entirety of the group appearing to descend into a spiral of inevitable self extinction, provided that alterations to the group are not implemented. 
 
 

Skelliger

 
 
 
These Skelligers, these absolute Scandinavians are a robust breed. Scandinavian men are frequently envisioned engaging in brawls at the local tavern, flyting drakes into submission, polymorpphing into bears, sacrificing humans to sentient boulders and performing merry jigs, to the tunes heralding valour and gall in the face of adversity. The denizens of Skelliger regard prowess in combat, alongside honour above all else, forgoing their vows and safety in an attempt to preserve their dignity. The life of a Skelliger is simplistic, albeit tribalistic, with the Scandinavians adhering to a jubilant way of life, that consists of feasting, raiding coasts, copulating with thralls and committing heroic deeds that will become immortalised within a skalds tunes. Deceit and trickery has no place within this factions society and is widely condemned. As such, this faction is the most preferable in regards to maintaining and abiding by honour and principle. 
 
 

Novigrad

 
 
 
The bustling city of Novigrad, is an autonomous, fortified fortress, that stands as an autonomous country, between the warring Redanian and Nilfgaardian factions. Novigrad is popularly regaled as the centre of the world, being regarded as an area leading the advancement of technology, medicine and other scientific pursuits. Being such an immense city, coupled with its fame, Novigrad bears a high level of gang activity, couples in with corruption, hedonism and a local group of religious zealots that wish to immolate mages atop a take. As such, the faction of Novigrad is comprised of a variety of distinct sectors, most significantly the gangs, alongside the witch hunting order. The gangs of Novigrad are the staples of the city, being reasonable for its security and defence against external realms. Despite the gangs effectively serving as Novigrad’s ever watchful, prudent eye, they bbear a tendency to engage in corruption, frequent bouts of treachery and gang warfare, as the various criminal syndicates incessantly srive to acquire complete control over the entirety of the city. As a result of the gangs dubious tactics, equip with their ambition, they have simultaneously earnt the ire and fear of the lower rungs of society that reside within Novigrad, with many observing the alterations within such a city with bated breath. Asides from the gangs, their exists a volatile, albeit righteous protestant group, referred to as the witch hunters or Billy Boys maintain a tangible presence over the city, enveloping the decrepit town within an aura and royal wreath of purity. These witch hunters harbour an immense and distinctive hatred towards those of a Catholic faith and mages and as such, are oft envisioned immolating them alive. Frequently, this zealous protestant group patrols the streets at night, antagonising Catholic dominated neighbourhoods, thieving wares from the local merchant stalls and assaulting all who they deem to bear a Catholic or mages origin. Often, this group hosts annual witch burnings, where they strap an individual who has confessed to delving within the arcane to a stake. The sorcerer, after being coerced to endure a speech regarding the eternal fire, is set alight, being reborn of their previous transgressions upon modern day society. The crowd, after envisioning such a pious event unfold, stamp their feet and cheer in awe at observing such a jubilant event occur. For weeks onwards, the morale of the town is conspicuously improved, as the city dwellers frolic about, completing their tasks filled to the brim with mirth. Asides from the Witch hunters hosting festive occasions, they are also responsible for overseeing the rate of immigration into the city. Thanks to the diligence of the Witch Hunters, all those who are not protestants or bear an affinity to magicks are subsequently prohibited from the city, with only the opposite of said groups being permitted to congregate and reside within the glorious city. Overall, with the two factions combined, Novigrad is an omnipotent, fearful entity, one capable of standing tall, opposed to the testament of time for a millennia. However, unfortunately the cities minor factions have splintered, warring against each other in a bid to pursue various commodities and commercial gain. 
 
 

Temeria

 
 
 
Temeria has fallen, it is a remannt of its former glory, a followed out husk, that’s colour has faded from its crest. However, fret not and most significantly do not despair, for Roche and his band of French Quebec nationalists are residing in caves throughout French Canada, conspiring to assault the English and acquire autonomy once more. The denizens of Temeria are a stoic, deeply nationalistic people. They refuse to converse in anything other than French Mongolian, consume remnants of dissected frogs and demand that any individuals they encounter, be they French or not, converse in their native tongue. These French Canadians bear a distinct affinity towards violence, as evident by the recent string of attacks upon the English Empire and Redania, that have seen developing a wholly hostile demeanour towards them. Overall, asides from their peculiar eatings habits and attempts to coerce the entirety of the Witcher’s universe into conversing in French they are a formidable adversity, one who should be admired for their zeal and obstinate mannerisms alone. 
 
 

Nilfgaard

 
 
 
The Nilfgaardians are a group of Welsh hating, pixie masquerading fiends, ones who attempt to artificially enlarge their ears in an attempt to retain their great, great grandfathers Elven DNA. In regards to the faction itself, Nilfgaard appears to have adopted an expansionist ideological viewpoint, being determined to invade and assimilate newfound countries in an attempt to sustain their empire. The inhabitants of this faction are apart of a fringe movement of goths, dressing majorly in black, with a subtle gold tinge in an attempt to depict how they are a unique variant of angst, goth teens. Nilgaard perceives mages and non humans, particularly Elves in a fashionable light, yet despite their affable and amiable demeanour towards these groups, they condone the enslavement of the Welsh, an act that is utterly abhorrent and should be regarded with nought more than audacious fury. As such, the Nilfgaardians are a sector of depraved, ludicrous fiends, those who bear an aeon old grudge towards the Welsh, being envious of the countries vast amount of resources and inconceivable might. 
 
 

The Vastly Preferable Faction

 
 
 
Each faction displays tangibles flaws, alongside strengths. After meticulous and comprehensive analysis upon the factions, it has been deduced that the Skelligers are the most honourable and ethical factions out of the ones provided. Skelliger, unlike its counterparts attempts to integrate a system of honour and integrity within society, performing feats of valour in an attempt to depict their physical prowess. Whilst the denizens of Skelliger are relatively rowdy and uncivilised, that is simply because they are Scandinavian, a fact that inexplicably caused them to behave in a certain manner. In summary, this factions flaws pale in comparison to the rival factions. For example, the Scoia’tael scalp children, the Nilfgaardians enslave Welshmen, the Redanians burn gardeners alive at the stake, claiming that they are insidious herbalists, Novigrad is a proponent of depravity and hedonism, whilst the Temerians are rabid, mouth frothing French Mongolians, immediately invalidating all benefit that they have contributed to the world. As such congratulations to the Scandinavians for being officially deemed as the preferable faction in this nest pit of volatile, psychologically addled nest of vipers. May the Skelligers engage in a jubilant celebration and embrace many tavern brawls to come. 
 
 

Conclusion

 
May all who behold this text witness Uma and be captivated by his tender embrace, the sweet caresses that he places upon my cheeks, oh the soft bleats he emits when I cuddle him so. Uma, never attempt to escape my abode. 
 
 
 
These scars long have yearned for your tender caress 
To bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own 
Rend my heart open, then your love profess 
A winding, weaving fate to which we both atone 
You flee my dream come the morning 
Your scent, berries tart, lilac sweet 
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy 
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep 
The wolf I will follow into the storm 
To find your heart, its passion displaced 
By ire ever growing, hardening into stone 
Amidst the cold to hold you in a heated embrace 
You flee my dream come the morning 
Your scent, berries tart, lilac sweet 
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy 
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep 
I know not if fate would have us live as one 
Or if by love’s blind chance we’ve been bound 
The wish I whispered when it all began 
Did it forge a love you might never have found? 
You flee my dream come the morning 
Your scent, berries tart, lilac sweet 
To dream of raven locks entwisted, stormy 
Of violet eyes, glistening as you weep 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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