This fan fiction about Bishop takes place while he is still working for the Luskans, before the tragic events of Red Fallow's Watch and Neverwinter Nights 2 OC.
Please note that the material you are about to read is definitely rated as Mature/Restricted for scenes of violence, sexuality, BDSM and nudity. You should be 18 years old or older before continuing on as adult themes are explored. Please do NOT continue if any of these makes you uncomfortable. There are graphic and descriptive scenes in this narrative.
Quel Fara – Part I
By Ryoushi © 2007
The missive had been blunt, cryptic and to the point. He had destroyed it immediately after reading and memorizing the contents. He knew the way Luskans worked. If he was caught with it, while trespassing deep in Neverwinter territory, they'd deny even having given it to him. He would be damned if he would be hung out to dry by those scums.
Capture the shapechanger girl in Neverwinter wilderness.
Preferably alive; dead if necessary.
It was a useless note. How do you track a shape-shifting girl through the woods? For all he knew he might accidentally shoot her while hunting for deer. He had told the messenger this, to which the short surly half-elf had replied, "No matter what form she takes, she will have purple eyes. She also cannot take the form of any air or sea creature. That should be enough for the best tracker in Luskan, if you really are as good as your reputation."
"What so important about her, anyway?" he had grunted. The half-elf had turned his nose down, "The business of the Arcane Brotherhood is of no concern to you, ranger. Do as you are told and you will be rewarded greatly. Ask too many questions, and they will assure that nobody on either side of the border has even heard of you or your reputation." Bishop had scowled at the half-elf and considered killing him and hiding the body; he could always just ignore the mission and pretend he never even got the message. The messenger had seemed to sense his intentions, "The Hosttower mages will not tolerate any delay in this assignment." He had turned abruptly, saying over his shoulder, "And she's quite beautiful, from what I hear. Don't let her get inside your head or else you'll regret it." He scurried off, his robes swishing out the door.
Bishop had slammed his glass of ale down on the table, glaring at the other patrons in the tavern who looked up at him, until they had averted their eyes. Damn those Luskan-bred bastards! One day he'd be free from them all and he'd make sure he would serve no one again. Until then though, he'd have to bide his time and play their games.
The rain was coming down hard, making the mud slippery beneath his boots. The water dripped from his hood into his eyes, making it hard to see but at least the mud forced her to leave deeper imprints in the soil. Finding her trail had been difficult at first. How do you describe somebody only by the color of their eyes, when they can take on whatever other appearance they wanted? He had found that the orcs and bugbears of the region were his most reliable sources – it appeared she was fond of harassing their raiding and hunting parties. Before he had slit the throat of the last orc he had encountered, the miserable creature has choked out what they had called her: Draugur vajolk. Purple ghost.
He had been on her trail now for nearly a week; every day brought him no closer to his prey. But no further either. At first it had been difficult, but not impossible, to follow her through the dense underbrush. She always had been cautious how she made her camp, how she stepped in the dirt – but now she was getting careless. And Bishop knew survivors like her did not get careless by accident. She was toying with him now, making it a game, wanting to be caught – trying to see if he could catch her. He didn't know if he was impressed or annoyed with her. Probably both. His supply of whisky was running low but at least out here he didn't have to worry about Luskans. The longer he was in the woods, the less time he was in the Luskan city. And that was just fine by him.
He glanced at the mud. Dainty humanoid footsteps, moving at a brisk jog, judging from the depth of the toe compared to the heel. She was comfortable in the woods – he could tell by the way her strides never changed between running on dirt, rocks, grass, over fallen branches.
Bishop felt the hairs of his neck stand up on end but he didn't bother turning around. He knew she was probably watching him now. She often circled back so that she was following him following her. It unnerved him slightly that she might actually have the upper hand on him. Once in frustration, he had fired off an arrow randomly into the trees; the note did say dead if necessary. But he knew that move was pointless and he wasted no more arrows firing at a prey he could not see. Besides, if she could sneak up behind him, he didn't need an arrow in his back. Still, he hadn't even seen her or any of her shifted manifestations. At night he occasionally awoke, and in his half-dreaming state, often saw shining purple eyes at the edges of his vision. But every time he turned his head, they faded from view.
He called Karnwyr back to him; he had stopped sending the wolf out to try to herd her back to him. Every time he had done that, her trail had gone cold for hours, leaving him circling the forest in frustration until it seemed like she had forgiven him and had left him an obvious marker. She seemed to want to do this game person to person. She had once hung a small leather pendant with a cougar's tooth on a tree branch. He was wearing it now and found himself idly toying with it. Did she make this token? Had she made it for him? More sobering was the thought that if she had made it, it meant she could kill a cougar by herself. But Bishop was prepared to kill her if she put up a fight, gift or no gift. It would take more than a necklace to bribe him off.
Karnwyr trotted back to him, shaking his fur and sending water droplets flying. It was growing dark and he knew he could rest without her disappearing. He would set up camp here and wake before the sunrise – Bishop knew the only way to catch her was to make up grounds while she was sleeping, maybe even catch her while she was asleep. He looked up and looked around, making a big show of dropping his pack into the mud. He would catch her soon; she would make a fatal mistake sooner or later – they all did.
