All's fair in love and war
A Neverwinter Nights 2 fanfic by Shade-Duelist
disclaimer: NWN2, all its characters and paraphernalia belong to Bioware or to Obsidian (don't know which). However, the character Calenna Signe, which I designed, belongs to me. And this story is mine as well.
Chapter 1: It has been two months...
(Calenna's POV)
I am sitting in my bedroom, bored with tedious politics though. The pile of papers in front of me grows ever larger as I spend my days doing what I do best, whether it's practicing my swordplay, healing those in need of it, or having long conversations with one of my companions. Just yesterday, I was having a long discussion with Grobnar about the value of knowledge and the importance of keeping records. ...Hmm, perhaps I should hire Grobnar's help in keeping these politics going. Or Sand's, since he's so good at it. On second thought, I might be fried to a crispy bit if I bring the subject up. Better not ask. Maybe Kana, my lieutenant and second-in-command, knows someone I could hire.
I hear a knock on my door and decide not to go open it. "Enter", I merely say, and the perpetrator steps in. It's Wolf, a boy I once saved and who now serves as the errands-runner along with his gang of street-wise minions. He brings in a few notes from Kana, a letter from Sir Nevalle, my designated protector and supervisor, and... hm, that's odd... There's a small scribble on a piece of parchment. Looks untidy, perhaps Bishop or Khelgar. What's it say? ...I can't read it in this light! I thank Wolf for bringing me the papers and send him back to his usual activities. ...I'll wonder about that scribble later...
Ah, it seems so long ago now that I was still in the Mere, in my village! The attack now seems distant, while I once wondered how long it would take before I would finally forget it... And, of course, the shard. My hand flits almost unconsciously to my chest, where a shard must be – fitted snugly in my body... It does seem only yesterday, though, that I met Khelgar, my sturdy dwarven companion, at a tavern brawl. Or Neeshka, the adorable sneak-thief, caught by some wayward Fort Locke soldiers. Elanee, the elven druid that joined me after having stalked me. Short-tempered Qara, whom I saved from some mages. Sand, the arrogant elven mage that seems to pick fights with Qara constantly – I have nothing against both, so I merely keep my distance when they quarrel. Bishop, that never-do-well evil ranger that I keep as far away as possible. Zhjaeve, the githzerai cleric that seems to revere me because of that darned shard. Casavir, the tall and impressing paladin of Tyr, that mainly stands brooding in a corner of the halls nowadays. I wonder what makes him so impressing, I would've thought my celestial side was immune to such things – gotta ask him one day if it's an aura or something... Hah, and Grobnar, whom I met when singing – near Old Owl Well, close to where I met Casavir. Now that's a pair of opposites, those two. Heh... And then I think of Ammon Jerro, and my heart sinks, for his granddaughter, Shandra, was also a good friend of me and my group... but she fell by the hand of her grandfather, short-sighted and short-tempered as he was... it's a sad history. My vision clouds over briefly as I think of it, but I shake it off, thinking instead on something else.
Time passes so slowly while I'm in the walls of this keep, that I was ordered to protect and restore by Lord Nasher. He's also an impressing man – once again I wonder if he's a paladin as well, and whether he has an aura over him. The man used to be an adventurer like me... so it's possible...
When I look up again from my thoughts, I see the flames of the hearth have nearly gone out. I quickly toss another log on the fire to keep it going and then retrieve my favourite book. It has a beautiful poem in it, about love and devotion. I get this odd feeling that pulls at me whenever I read it. I knew, back home, that I would live uneventfully, marry and have children, and then live on uneventfully, until I died of old age or disease – no, not disease, I am not one to fall ill quickly. My devotion to Sune gave me something to live for. 'Live freely, ask questions, do not take anything for granted, live life to its fullest, cultivate your passions, let your heart speak', those were my mottos. Those still are my mottos, but a change has occurred. I used to not care about laws and what they said, as long as I could do good things for people. I would accept the punishment if I did something wrong, but I would never do something to harm anyone, even if it meant breaking the law. But in Neverwinter, when I joined the guard, something inside me seems to have... I don't know, shifted? Settled? All I know is that my point of view began to change, and that I started attaching more and more truth and value to those laws that I had sworn to set aside if it meant harm to another. Meeting with Casavir, and later being squired under Sir Grayson who is a kind man at heart, speeded up the process a bit, and I'm now left standing where I don't know what to do. An emotional crossroads, so to speak.
Standing up and stretching, I decide it's time for a bit of light exercise. I'll go see Khelgar, find out if he's up for a bit of sparring with those wooden practice swords Wolf has made me...
"Calenna, you're still up?", I hear a voice behind me ask, and I turn to see Qara dressed in a flimsy gown, looking ready to go to bed.
"What time is it, then?", I ask her, surprised that it could have become later than I thought. She chuckles, a sound I don't often hear of her.
"It's past my bedtime. The others are still up, though. Khelgar is in the inn, and so is Bishop – I hope to god he is, if I see him leering at me one more time..." Her hands turned red briefly – I recognised the Burning Hands spell from a mile away. "Anyway, Neeshka's gambling with some of the workers. Grobnar is still tinkering with that blade golem. Casavir is brooding as usual, and I have no idea where Sand or Elanee are, and I don't care either. And Ammon Jerro is spending the night outside, far away from all the rest." She then chuckled again, and I now smile as well. "Going to spar with Khelgar? He'll be drunk out of his mind right now... not a good fight to pick, you know."
"He's more aggressive and less concerned for me when he's drunk. It suits me.", I reply off-hand, seeing a whistling Neeshka head to the kitchens to filch some food from the supplies. She obviously cheated her way through the evening, judging by the overly full purse she has on her. "Ah well, maybe I'll go pester Bishop to spar with me then. He could use some hand-to-hand."
"You know Bishop would like nothing less.", Qara said in obvious disgust. "Besides, I thought he sucked at hand-to-hand?"
"I know. I can kick his butt and then watch him suffer.", I say, and Qara now laughs out loud. The sound scares a stray bug from between the floorstones and she squashes it. "Goodnight." I leave her to her devices and walk through the main hall, now lit with torches. I had no idea it was this late at night... Someone moves in the shadow, and my mace finds its way to my hand faster than I thought it possible. In the light the flames dancing on the surface of my weapon cast, I see it's only Casavir approaching. "You scared me there. Aren't you tired?"
"I have no reason to be." His voice is somewhat reassuring, like a paladin's voice should be – imagine a paladin with a squeaky voice! - and I calm down. "You are still up as well, shouldn't you be tired?"
"I am – tired of having to deal with paperwork day after day after day... I was about to go find Khelgar for some sparring until Qara told me he's probably wasted by now. Kicking Bishop's ass might settle my mental unrest, too, so I'm off to challenge him. Want to come?"
"Giving another pain, no matter how wicked that man is, should not be entertainment to you...", Casavir scolds me, and I nod.
"I know, but you know Bishop. If he's not crudely trying to 'seduce' me, he's bad-mouthing me to everyone who'll listen. A little lesson in humility can't hurt anyone, can it?" Casavir nods slightly, and I chuckle. "And I know you'll patch him right up after I've sparred with him. ...Say, Casavir, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, ask what you will..." Sometimes his kind of archaic language makes me smile, and this is one of those moments. He sees it and smiles, himself.
"Do you, you know, have an aura over you at all times? ...It's just that I can't help but feel... well, a bit awed at your appearance. You look more knightly than Sir Nevalle. And Sir Nevalle looks very dignified." Now Casavir smiles – that's the most emotion he's shown since I got to know him! Though he did have some fierce look on his face back at Old Owl Well, too.
"I do have an aura over me, but not always. It surrounds me when I need it. I'm surprised you even noticed, you are Aasimar, right?"
"Right. That's why I wondered as well. I'm supposed to be immune to it because I have it myself, you know?"
"Yes, that I do know. Katriona holds you in high regard..." Katriona's the woman that was fighting beside him when we met, and she's now one of my sergeants in the fort. "...and even Bishop shows you respect, occasionally."
"Yep – speaking of Bishop, I'm off to see if he's still up for a friendly match. Oh, don't worry...", I say when I see him sigh. "I'll patch him up afterwards. I always do, don't I? Relax. ...Oh, and I think I saw a note from Kana earlier requesting that I deal with Bishop. He's bad-mouthing me more than usual nowadays. So, I know how you feel about Bishop..." It's true, I do. Casavir, like me, regards Bishop as muck, evil muck – it's in fact one of the points that we agree upon in our scarce conversations. The only thing that's keeping Casavir from bashing the ranger into the next plane is his paladinly ways, I guess. "If you hear him bad-mouthing me, you have my permission to bash him over the head. Lightly if possible, but knock him out if you want to. Sleep well."
"Sleep well, Calenna.", he replies as he heads off to the other wing, where the men's quarters are. And now, I'm off for some exercise. I walk briskly to the inn and watch Khelgar downing ale after ale, scanning the room for Bishop. Ah, there we go. I get the most non-law-abiding grin on my face as I walk up to him.
"Come to keep me company at last, dear? Or do you just want to bask in my presence?" And this is why I can't stand Bishop. He's god-awful and terrible at pick-up lines too.
"I came for some practice in hand-to-hand, but seeing as Khelgar is out for the night, I guess you will have to do." Now he pales, knowing what is to come, but he doesn't decline. Ah, I can feel the thrill of a good exercise fill me now!
(end Calenna's POV)
(Casavir's POV)
I stand in the dark, pondering a bit about the events of the past two months. I was fighting orcs for a few years before this, fighting them with a passion. The people of Old Owl Well respected me, followed my lead in defending their grounds from the orc invasions. Neverwinter sent help – too late, according to me, but they did send help – and a while after the Greycloaks had joined in the battle, they sent one of their newest and finest. They sent Calenna.
I can still see her as she stood that day, ambushed by orcs but fighting her way out. Casting Bless to help her allies – Khelgar, Neeshka and Qara. Then throwing herself into the battle brandishing a flaming mace that mowed down orcs like grass. My men had little to do as I came to her aid, and even I had little left to do as she healed everyone, including herself, after that battle. The look on her face as she fought was like I imagine mine must have been: hard, fierce, giving no quarter and expecting no mercy. She carries within her good ideals, I could tell back then. I see them now, even more clearly. She is compassionate, she cares for others as if she were nonexistant and only the others matter. She is passionate about everything she does, from fighting over healing to commanding the troops she has at her disposition here. She's even passionate about disliking Bishop. I dislike that man too. When I first met him, the first thing he did was try to chat her up in his own crude fashion – I have to admit I was relieved when she told him off. Then, he started slandering me because of my calling, for which she also told him off – and for which I was also thankful.
Her companions are a weird lot, I must say. Khelgar can also be rude and vulgar, but he has a golden heart and the strength of many. Neeshka can also be kind, though she is a thief and thoroughly immoral. Qara is... well, she's who she is. Sand is haughty, and this clashes with Qara's personality often, the results of which are often singed doors and drifts of snowflakes. Grobnar, whom I met only after the Sunken Flagon, the inn owned by Calenna's uncle Duncan, was attacked and ransacked by githyanki – well, he is... peculiar. Elanee the druid I find a bit aloof, and Zhjaeve looks too much like a githyanki to ever let me feel at ease when she is around. ...But I do like the fact that she, too, follows the way of a healer. Like Calenna does.
I hear movement at the door leading to Calenna's room – the Captain's room, as it's called – and I am startled from my thoughts. Looking up, I see only Qara, walking to her room in a thin robe that had better be her nightwear. ...She's talking to someone now, and I briefly wonder who it could be. Neeshka's off doing something immoral, Khelgar has gone to the inn for what he described 'a dwarven assault on Sal's kegs' and which will probably lead to his getting drunk. Bishop's in the inn as well, thank the gods for that. Zhjaeve doesn't come into the keep and instead pitches her sleeping bag in a small tent outside – it's only natural since she was held captive here before. ...Elanee, or Sand? They are elves and particularly light-footed, so it is possible... Qara laughs, I wonder briefly what she is laughing at, but then find myself wondering who she is talking to in the first place again. Footsteps near me and I move from my position in the shadows to see who it is, and find myself confronted with a familiar flame-covered mace. I relax, though only slightly. Calenna, however, seems startled to see me. She rarely exits her room nowadays, never coming out to talk to anyone. She feels the paperwork is her duty.
"You scared me there. Aren't you tired?" As I look at her, she smiles a bit wearily. The paperwork tires her, I know it. I could always suggest that she ask Grobnar or someone else to alleviate the load, but would she listen? I do not know.
"I have no reason to be. You are still up as well, shouldn't you be tired?", I ask with genuine concern. She smiles again, less wearily but still looking tired.
"I am – tired of having to deal with paperwork day after day after day... I was about to go find Khelgar for some sparring until Qara told me he's probably wasted by now. Kicking Bishop's ass might settle my mental unrest, too, so I'm off to challenge him. Want to come?" As much as I like the fact that Bishop gets kicked around by her, it still annoys me that she speaks so easily of hurting him. He is, after all, just a human being.
"Giving another pain, no matter how wicked that man is, should not be entertainment to you..." She nods, and I notice how her carrot-orange hair shivers as she does that. That hair-colour made me smile when she first took off her helmet – inwardly, for outwardly I was still caught in the throes of the battle we had just been in.
"I know, but you know Bishop. If he's not crudely trying to 'seduce' me, he's bad-mouthing me to everyone who'll listen. A little lesson in humility can't hurt anyone, can it?" I nod, Bishop could only benefit from being humbled now and then, and she chuckles. I sometimes wonder if she really does feel that irked by Bishop. "And I know you'll patch him right up after I've sparred with him. ...Say, Casavir, can I ask you something?" Now she catches me off-guard, and I slip into my more formal phrases.
"Sure, ask what you will..." After I say it, I can't help but smile. She's told me to loosen up several times, and I really do try, but sometimes I just... slip back into old habits, I guess.
"Do you, you know, have an aura over you at all times? ...It's just that I can't help but feel... well, a bit awed at your appearance. You look more knightly than Sir Nevalle. And Sir Nevalle looks very dignified." She seems a bit abashed, asking it, and I smile – not many people tell me I'm impressive, and coming from her, it's a much bigger compliment.
"I do have an aura over me, but not always. It surrounds me when I need it. I'm surprised you even noticed, you are Aasimar, right?" The light skin and oddly pale hair-colour do betray her a mile away – although I thought she was one hundred percent human when we first met. She assured me that she possesses celestial blood, probably through her father, when I asked.
"Right. That's why I wondered as well. I'm supposed to be immune to it because I have it myself, you know?"
"Yes, that I do know. Katriona holds you in high regard..." Katriona served me well at Old Owl Well: she is a very independant woman, and to see her serving Calenna as a sergeant now gives me a good feeling. Katriona doesn't just trust anyone, and that shows that my intuitions about Calenna are true. "...and even Bishop shows you respect, occasionally." I say the last part meaning irony, but she doesn't detect it.
"Yep – speaking of Bishop, I'm off to see if he's still up for a friendly match." I sigh as I hear her say it. She is a living controversy, speaking one minute of protecting her fellow men, and the other minute she's squared off with Bishop in a match she knows he can't win. "Oh, don't worry, I'll patch him up afterwards. I always do, don't I?" I have to admit that she does, so I nod. She smiles at me softly. "Relax. ...Oh, and I think I saw a note from Kana earlier requesting that I deal with Bishop. He's bad-mouthing me more than usual nowadays. So, I know how you feel about Bishop..." I nod again: we both see Bishop as a necessary evil, and one that we should try to get away as much and as far as possible. "If you hear him bad-mouthing me, you have my permission to bash him over the head. Lightly if possible, but knock him out if you want to. Sleep well.", she says as she departs. I nod at her in farewell.
"Sleep well, Calenna.", I reply, moving to my own quarters to go get some rest. I've done nothing all day, I merely busied myself with watching Kana go about her job, and observing the workers as they worked on the battlements outside. It is already well into the evening, I notice as I look outside. There's a small fire going in my room behind a cast-iron grate, warming me as I take off the tedious full plate armor and chain mail. I sigh once again. Calenna called me impressive, but it is in truth she that is the most impressive of all I've met, including Lord Nasher Alagondar. She has an aura around her that instantly gives you a feeling of belonging. And her way of going about things is as soft as her eyes are. She smiles often, and her light green eyes remind me of the green fields I used to play in as a boy, when life was still simple and the burdens of life were but far-off promises that the wind whispered. Now I smile, wondering whether Bishop is already getting pummelled into unconsciousness. Calenna does always heal him after a friendly spar. I always scold her for fighting him, when I myself am not sure if I would heal him. ...My eyes feel heavy, I think I must sleep a bit now. The worries lift as I drift off...
(end Casavir's POV)
A/N (again): this is it, my NWN2 fic! It's meant to show the developments in the later stages of the game. The main focus is on romance, and a bit on some things I liked to adapt. Mainly taking place between the major actions of act 3, this may contain massive spoilers. Read at your own risk. I think this chapter is relatively safe.
Also, I need your help. I want to determine a reasonable update schedule. The fiction is fully written (otherwise I wouldn't post it) but I want to know how many days/weeks you want me to keep between updates. I won't post the whole thing in one time, and I want a minimum of 1 day separating updates. All the rest is up to you.
Hope you enjoy my writings. Greetings, and until next update...
