Note: I do not own any of the characters except Aeyryn, although i wouldn't mind owning a certain paladin and ranger. :D They are the property of Neverwinter Nights. However, this story is a piece from the main storyline, combined by some high school memories and my own musings.
Raindrops lashed against the window as Aeyryn fiddled with the lock on the chest. Almost there, she thought. The last tumbler clicked into place and she swung the lid open triumphantly. Of course, the chest contained nothing of value; she knew this before she even attempted to pick its lock. It was Duncan's business records and papers, and she had seen them a thousand times before when she picked this same lock. The point was not to loot, but to practice, and on this miserable, wet day, honing her fingers on the Flagon's many locks seemed a lot better than watching Casavir polish his shield in contemplative silence, or listening to Grobnar and his tales of mechanical codpieces of doom.
She rocked back on her heels and began stretching her fingers when she caught a whiff of something pungent, and vaguely familiar. With sudden insight, she realized it smelled a lot like huva weed, except there was a heavy overtone of something cloyingly sweet and smoky. Her curiosity piqued, she decided to go investigate. She followed the scent down the hallway and around the corner, the smell getting perceptibly stronger until it tickled her nose and throat. A thin veil of smoke drifted lazily from a door that was slightly cracked open. The door to Bishop's room, she noted.
Cautiously she poked her head through the door, her eyes being greeted with stinging smoke. The ranger was reclining on his bed, clad only in his trousers and boots, head propped on a stack of pillows, feet propped on the footboard, a scrimshaw pipe in one hand, its stem resting between slightly parted lips as wisps of smoke casually drifted out. His dark amber eyes gazed vacantly at the ceiling as if transfixed by some profound revelation. His other hand rested behind his head, obscured by his usual mess of rough cropped dark auburn hair. He appeared completely oblivious to her presence, and Aeyryn's lips parted into a wide, amused grin. Of course he would! She though wryly, mentally kicking herself for not figuring it out sooner. He was, after all, a smuggler. If anyone in the docks could get a hold of some choice mind benders, it would be him. Suddenly realizing she had found a much more amusing way to pass the day, she quietly slipped in, closed the door behind her, and leaned back against the door, smiling as she waited for the ranger to realize he was no longer alone.
Bishop's Perspective
The ceiling slightly warped and wavered in his vision, and he was feeling pleasantly relaxed as he drew another toke off the pipe. The rain hammered the streets outside mercilessly, but for all he cared, it could have been brimstone and a hail of blast globes hammering down on Neverwinter. At this point, he most certainly did not give a fuck. Suddenly it struck him as very funny, the image of a blizzard of blast globes drifting onto the city, levelling everything they hit into fiery oblivion. He snorted and laughed, choking and coughing on the lungful of smoke he had just inhaled.
Suddenly Karnwyr whimpered and howled out in Bishop's mind. Alert! Intruder in den! The wolf butted his ribs with his snout and Bishop sat up in alarm, grabbing his dagger and dropping his pipe in the process. His previous pleasant mood was fading, replaced by cold fury as he looked up to see who in the Nine hells was stupid enough to bother him.
It was her. She was leaning back casually against the door, one foot cocked up and braced against it, her arms casually crossed on her chest. A large, lopsided grin that reminded Bishop of the cat that ate the canary crossed her features as her eyes lit up. She nodded slightly in greeting to Karnwyr, who seeing the intruder was one of his travelling companions, relaxed visibly and flopped back down.
"Welcome back, Bishop!" Aeyryn drawled. "Only took you 15 minutes to figure out I was here. Must be some good shit!" She nodded at the pipe lying on his lap.
His fury faded, leaving in its wake cool irritation as he set the dagger back on his nightstand. "I know you're from the swamp, but I'm pretty sure even in some backwards hick town like West Harbor they taught you to knock before entering someone's home," he snarled, gracing her with the full brunt of his irritation.
"Oh, they did indeed, scruffbag," she replied sweetly, rubbing the tips of her horns against the doorjamb in a motion that was curiously cat-like. "That is, when the door is actually closed. However, it wasn't, and I discovered this while I was wandering the hallway from Duncan's room, trying to locate the source of a certain something that smelled awfully narcotic, and thus, I took it as an open invitation." She looked at him pointedly. "And you do know, if I can smell it clear down in Duncan's room……" She shrugged, implications obvious.
"It was open?" His annoyance spent, he blinked in surprise. Normally, he was extra cautious. He couldn't imagine how he had overlooked something that simple. "Well, live and learn. Next time, I'll lock the door. Keeps nosy swamp wenches from going into places they would be better off avoiding." She responded with a quick snort of derision and an expression that said "Get real".
"Sorry, I forget. Blame it on the dope. Locks have a habit of opening when you show up. And I doubt a standard trap would keep you out, either. Maybe I'll go get the sorceress twit to come inscribe some wards on the door. Call me presumptuous, but somehow, I don't think even your little fingers could get around that one."
She nodded. "I concede. You certainly have a point there. I would actually be impressed even more if you could actually get Qara to do it without taking out the whole south side of the Docks in the process." She took a deep, exaggerated bow, her loose ponytail flailing forward and sweeping the dusty floor as it did. "Very well, have it your way, dog breath. I apologize, your reverence, for invading your space. I simply was looking for the source of that huva smell that occasionally haunts the Flagon since I've been here, and was finally presented the opportunity, so I took it," she said, her voice dripping with sweet sarcasm. "Actually, I'm surprised I didn't guess before, but I had other things on my mind at the time." Her eyebrow arched slightly, and she added, "Ok, and maybe, after finding the source, taking to opportunity to share in the festivities."
He stared at her, incredulous. "Let me get this straight." He pulled himself to the edge of his bed. "Your asshole uncle forces me to give you a tour of the Luskan wilderness to save some stupid farm girl, you force me to give my favourite skinning knife to some dirt farmer's kid, you drag me into a demon infested cave to kill some extra-planar freaks, threatened me on numerous occasions to rip my tongue out in the meantime, then two days later, you break into my room, uninvited, and want me to share my drugs with you? Do I have it all covered?"
She thought about it for a moment, shrugged, then nodded. "Yeah. Sound's about right." She cocked her head to the side. "So? What do you say?" Her face softened into a polite, hopeful expression.
He regarded the tiefling girl with a mixture of amazement at her audacity and a slight touch of respect. I can't figure this one out, he thought to himself. This wench either has had her brains drawn out by a mind flyer, is shameless and brazen, or is plain stark raving mad. After watching her in action fighting the gith, he was convinced it was a combination of the latter two. Which, he was mused, in her case, not really a bad thing. Even in one of her moods, she was far more tolerable than the rest of the adventuring band.
"Oh, what the hells," he was surprised to hear himself mutter. He motioned for her to come in. "Have a seat. I suppose a lot worse could have walked in anyway. Like the paladin." He watched her walk over to the desk and grab the chair there, pulling it out, and flopping into it, leaning back and kicking her feet up on the desk. He reached over under his pillow and grabbed the leather pouch containing the mixture and started refilling his pipe.
"So what is that stuff, anyway?" he heard her ask. "It smelled sorta like huva, but like something else. Kinda weird."
"Well, you're half right," Bishop explained as he used his dagger tip to stir the bowl of his pipe. "It's a blend of huva and black lotus. Very potent and very effective."
"Wow," she said. "I know what huva is, but what in the hells is "black lotus?"
"It's a powerful narcotic. Comes from flowers or something down south, like Calimsham or somewhere. Priests and healers sometimes use it in powerful painkilling preparations. The rest of us just smoke it and get loopy." He paused for a moment. "So how in the Nine Hells does some deep swamp rube girl know about huva anyway? I thought it might be a little "exotic" for West Harbor."
She snorted. "Oh, come on, Bishop. Even us rubes do get out once in a while. And it just so happens that West Harbor is not too far from a lot of smuggler routes that run through the Mere. The swamp is a dangerous place. Especially when a smuggler suddenly finds himself amidst a rain of arrows and bolts that suddenly came out of nowhere. They tend not to be particularly brave, and you'd be surprised what they drop in their haste to get the fuck out of there." The look on her face left no doubt as to who at least one of the 'invisible assailants' was.
He sat back and studied her with renewed interest. The more I talk to this bird, the more I like her. He thought. You could easily forget about the fact that her uncle is a fucking idiot listening to her. Maybe it's because she isn't really a Farlong.
"Well now," Bishop remarked, amused. "Learn something new everyday. And all this time I had you pegged as a good little swamp wench who likes stealing daggers from big bad rangers and giving them to poor little boys in distress. I must say, I'm actually impressed. And I was worried for a moment the paladin might succeed in turning you down the straight and narrow." He leaned forward and offered her the pipe. "Ladies first. And be careful with that shit. It's huva with a serious kick. Too much and you better hope you have the next few days free. Your uncle and the paladin wouldn't be too happy with me, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?"
She took the pipe and a match, and holding it to the nearby candle, and when it flared to life, she hastily lit the pipe and took a deep drag, holding it in. Suddenly she erupted into a violent coughing fit, lurching over and pounding her chest in frustration. Bishop started laughing uncontrollably. She glared back at him, hacking hoarsely all the while.
"Told you," he sneered, snatching the pipe from her hand before it dropped it. "It will make you grow hair on your chest if you ain't careful, girl. And then the paladin would definitelynot be happy with that." He paused for a moment, then gave her sly look. "And for that matter, neither would I."
She finally stopped coughing at sat back in the chair. "Oh, like that would stop you, dogbreath," she retorted. "I have the suspicion that even if she had tusks, warts, and a hunchback, you would have still tried coercing Shandra into your bedroll. For some reason, I'll take a wild guess and say your requirements don't go far beyond being female and having a pulse."
"Oh, well, now, will you listen to this crap? Insulting me, after I forgave you barging in here, and let you come in to get high, out of the kindness of my shrivelled black heart. Consider yourself lucky, girl. Anyone else would have my dagger in their throat by now." He took a hit off the pipe and handed it back to her. "This time, take it easy on that thing, will you?"
"I've learned my lesson," she promised, regarding the still smoking pipe bowl with a lot more respect than before. Her lips wrapped around the stem once more and she took a much shorter hit. "What in the hells is with you two, anyway?" she asked, smoke rolling from her mouth with each syllable. When he gave her a blank look, she elaborated. "You know. Casavir and you. Every time I turn around, you are antagonizing the fuck out of him, or he's on a preaching tirade about you. Is there something I should know?"
"I should ask you the same question, dear leader," Bishop replied, his voice suddenly becoming low and inquisitive.
She regarded him blankly. "Me? What are you talking about?"
He snorted. "You mean you haven't noticed?"
Aeyryn shook her head. "Noticed what?" Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
Bishop sighed. "Well, I've noticed. Every time I see the towering buckethead, he is watching you. Before you can even pull out those rapiers out of their sheathes, there he is, like magic, shield up, hammer out, flying to your side like a bat out of the hells so he won't miss the chance to take the first blow meant for you." He snorted in derision. "And you have failed to notice this little fact?"
"So? He's a paladin. They are known for doing that shit. It's like some holy mission. You know, being in the front, smiting the fuck out everything in sight. What's the big deal?"
"Oh, is that so? Is part of his holy mission to sneak glances at you while you every chance he gets, or to stare longingly at your sweet little face as you sleep soundly by the campfire? Or maybe Tyr told him that your shapely little ass is in danger from the forces of evil, and is in need of constant vigilance." He shook his head in disbelief. "Are you blind? The old boy is quite smitten with you, if you'll pardon the pun."
She rolled her eyes in exasperation and sighed. "Oh, Bishop, get fucking real. Have you smoked yourself mental? In case you haven't noticed…" she flicked both of her horns for emphasis, "there is something 'not quite right' about me. Oh, and I have a penchant for breaking into the homes of law abiding citizens and pilfering through their possessions, and sometimes I even manage to stab someone in the back. That certainly doesn't mash with all the honor and righteousness and holiness and crap that paladins get a hard on over." She handed the pipe back to Bishop. "Besides, I thought that paladins give up screwing anyway, because it's like sin or something."
"Do you really think any of that really matters to him? He's a paladin, not a eunuch. They actually let them keep their balls when they enter those holy orders of theirs. Contrary to the rumors, they do occasionally find a wench they want to stick the ol 'holy sword of righteousness' to and go on some long quest to prove their fitness for the task." Bishop took a hit, noting the pipe was running low, and continued in a deeper, suggestive tone. "And then there is the fact that he is a man in his prime, and you are a strangely attractive nubile young swamp wench just into womanhood, full of youthful exuberance and vitality. Trust me, little girl, when he's in his bed alone late at night, his thoughts aren't on Tyr's glory or justice, and his hand's most likely aren't on his holy symbol, either."
Aeyryn's eyes were starting to glaze from the effects of the drugs, and, Bishop noticed, she was having a little trouble focusing. Her face twisted into a snarl as tried to steady her vision. "Bishop, your mind knows gutters even I haven't slipped and fell in," she sighed. "You never cease to amaze me in how low you can go." She paused, then grinned. "Come to think of it, I'm actually looking forward to seeing just how low you really can go." She twirled her hand from her forehead in a mock salute. "Now, can we change the fucking subject, because the room is starting to fill up with an uncomfortable holiness, all this talk of paladins and their swords and vows."
He handed the pipe back to her and snapped, "Well, you started it." But he was getting tired of talking about the paladin, a subject that grated him. Especially when it concerned her. For some reason, he was unexplainably annoyed by the paladin's attention to Aeyryn. What the fuck do I care anyway, he thought. It's her problem, not mine. Hells, she wasn't even aware of it until I told her. But Bishop, much to his irritation, found that he did care.
Aeyryn's husky voice broke into his thoughts. "You weren't lying when you said this shit would kick my ass," she drawled. "The room is wobbling like a big cube of hog's gelatine. Hells," she said, grasping her head as if trying to keep it from rolling off her shoulders, "I'm seeing two of you, and neither stays still for long."
"See why it pays to listen to ol' Bishop?" he chuckled. "When I tell you something, I know what the hell I'm talking about. Next time I say 'take it easy', listen." He snickered as he watched her almost lose her balance and fall off the chair.
"Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiishop. Biiisssssssssssshhhhhhhip. Bishiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!" she rumbled, suddenly amused. "You realize how fucking weird your name sounds when you're high? "Without warning, she burst into a wild fit of snorting laughter, and this time, she did fall off the chair. "BISHUP!" she cackled wildly, her eyes starting to water.
Suddenly, Bishop found himself rolling off his bed in his own laughing fit. "By Cyric's left nut, you're fucking high!" he crowed, his voice wheezing with hysterical laughter, "I really wish the paladin could see this shit! He'd blow his fucking clogs!" He rolled himself into a ball, trying desperately to keep from pissing himself.
"Hey, now that's a stellar fucking idea," Aeyryn suddenly brightened. "Let's get the paladin stoned! Might actually mellow him out a little, and then you two would have something in common for a change."
"I thought we agreed to stop discussing numbnuts," Bishop snorted. He rolled over on his stomach and watched as Aeyryn, a few feet away, did likewise and wriggled to face him."
"Yeah, you brought it up this time," she said, then suddenly, in an unusually high pitched squeak: "Beeshop!" And suddenly, they both burst into another fit giggle fit.
After a few minutes, they settled down, and suddenly a staring match ensued; for how long, neither really knew. Coppery eyes locked green eyes like two panthers staring down an intruder, locked in a battle of sheer will. Suddenly, a pounding at the door startled both of them, and they jumped and crouched away from the door in simultaneous silence.
"Bishop! Bishop!" Duncan's speedy brogue hollered from the other side. He pounded on the door. "Bishop, I know damn well you're in there." He pounded the door again. "You know, we can smell that shit all the way out in the common room. Crack a fucking window, you idiot. I don't need the Greycloaks coming around my tavern asking questions."
Bishop snorted. "Like opening a window and letting it drift into the street isn't gonna attract them? Everyone on the fucking street won't smell it then?"
"In that case, then go smoke it elsewhere, then, if you can't keep it in your room," Duncan snapped. "Or better yet, don't smoke it at all. Gods know you could do with giving your brains a rest from that crap."
"Fine, Duncan," Bishop said crisply. "I'll do something about it then. Are you done moaning, or do you want something else?"
"I do. Have you seen Aeyryn anywhere? No one has seen her for a couple hours, and she is not in her room. Brelaina and Cormick are downstairs, looking for her."
The tiefling's eyes grew wide in panic, and she violently shook her head in protest, her dark hair escaping the tie and whipping violently around her head, mouthing a silent but emphatic "no". She made chopping motions with her hands and glared at him in warning.
Bishop stared at her, pondering. Should I tell the truth, for once? Duncan would shit his pants and have a stroke if he found out I was in here getting his little hick niece stoned, all alone and no one to protect her from the big bad wolf. That would be funny. Her threatening gaze turned to desperate pleading as she clenched her hands, still mouthing her silent "no". Oh have a heart. Besides, she's bad company. In a very good way.
Bishop took a deep breath and gathered every bit of annoyed sarcasm he was feeling, which was considerable, and growled "Now what do you think, Duncan? As you well know, I've been in here getting reacquainted with your fine taste in décor, and now you're telling me I was supposed to be babysitting your niece? Communications around here suck, Duncan. You and me just don't talk anymore." He paused, uncertain if Duncan was sober enough to understand, then decided to spell it out. "No, I haven't seen the little swamp wench. She probably went somewhere else, probably bored. Gods know there's fuck all to do in this place. She'll come back." Bishop rolled on his back and continued on. "Now, is there anything else you need, Duncan, or can I get back to admiring the rafters in your fine establishment?"
"Fine, fine, Bishop, go back to being a waste of space. Just take care of that damn smell. If you hear or see her, let her know I was looking for her." Bishop listened as he heard the innkeeper's footsteps retreat towards the stairs. He rolled back over and shot a pointed look at her. "Now you owe me, demon girl, and I expect to collect."
She nodded and sighed. "Fair enough. How much do you want?" She paused for a moment, then stated "And if it's more than twenty gold this time, well, I'll march right down there and show up myself."
"Twenty gold buys my silence," he agreed. "This time. But if he comes around again, I'm doubling the price. All this lying in one day isn't good for my poor soul. I need the extra gold to save it from eternal damnation!" He gave her his best sorrowful look, and she snickered.
"I have the feeling that even Nasher's coffers couldn't keep you from the Abyss, ranger," she chuckled. "And if you had that much gold anyway, would you really even bother trying?"
He snorted. "Not on your life. For that amount of money, I'd have a great time on the way down." He glanced at her. "Wouldn't you?"
She shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe. Not like I'm that bothered about my soul either way. I think I'd get really bored with all that gold though. There is only so much fun that can be bought, after a while, it'd get old quick, and I'd still be wandering around aimlessly looking for something else to do. Life is just too damned short to take seriously, and you gotta squeeze it like a wine rag for every last drop." She rolled languidly on her back and stretched her legs. "Otherwise, you just fucking waste it."
Bishop regarded Aeyryn with sudden curiosity. "So what you are saying is that if Ol' Baldy, out of the kindness of his heart, gave you his castle, throne, and all his gold, you would only stick around long enough to get your kicks off it all, then you'd bail out?"
"Pretty much. Why not? From what I saw of the nobles on my short trip to the Blacklake, I'd sooner glue my head to an orc's armpit than spend my life walking around all stiff like I have Qara's staff stuck up my ass." She snorted and continued "No, way, fuck that. I doubt you really would, either."
She had a point. "You're probably right. I sure as fuck wouldn't want to get stuck in Neverwinter for good. There's not much here you can kill and get away with it." He sat up, reaching up to his bed, feeling around for the pipe. Its remaining contents were spilled on the blanket. That's twice today I've dumped a perfectly good bowl, he thought as he reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the pouch. This shit ain't cheap, either.
Bishop loaded a fresh pinch of the resinous drug and lit it with a match, taking a deep draw, then reaching over he passed it towards Aeyryn's outstretched hand. "New bowl. I did the honors and broke it in." He fully exhaled and coughed slightly.
"I'll trust your skill in these matters," she said before taking a deep drag herself. "So where exactly did you get this shit, if you don't mind my asking?"
"I do mind you asking. I'm not telling. Trade secret."
"Fine. Don't then. See if I care."
"You do care. Otherwise, you wouldn't have asked. The answer is still a sharp 'no'". He reached back over as she handed the pipe back to him. He chewed the stem a bit before taking a hit. "Besides, you are much better off not knowing. Trust me."
She rocked side to side on her back and muttered. "Whatever you say, Bishop" She rolled on her side, facing him, her hair partially covering her face, and she blew it back with a quick huff of breath. She rested her head in the crook of her arm and let her other dangle above her hip. "When do you want your 20 gold, anyway?"
"Tommorow," he said absently, studying the silhouette of her hips her new position offered. "I'll remind you." He returned his attention back to his pipe and lit it. "Don't worry, little tiefling, I won't let you forget." He took another hit, and noting Aeyryn's gaze was going unfocused again, he set the pipe back on the nightstand.
She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back again from face. "I still don't understand why Cormick and Brelaina would come here to bug me anyway. As soon as I was done in Blacklake, I turned in my cloak. The watch is now their problem, not mine, anymore."
"Maybe they don't agree," Bishop suggested, scooting over closer to her. "Maybe you didn't shove that cloak far enough up their asses for them to understand. The Greycloaks are notoriously slow when trying to understand the meaning of 'Fuck Off''." He leaned back against the bed, stretching his arms up. "I would have thought you of all people would have figured out by now."
But she was not paying attention anymore. Her eyes were fixed to his chest, rolling down slowly, studying the thin strip of dark, rusty brown hair that ran its length with sudden interest.
"Does this shit really give you chest hairs, or were you just yanking my chain earlier?" she asked, looking up.
Bishop chortled. "If you are feeling a tickling, tight sensation on your chest right now, then it's already too late. That's the hairs already breaking the skin." Her eyes widened in sudden panic, and Bishop waved it away. "Of course I was fucking with you, you silly bitch! You are one paranoid little tiefling!"
She rolled over on her stomach and offered him a one fingered salute. "Fuck you, Bishop, and whatever whore spawned you, you evil prick," she groaned hoarsely, burying her head in her arms.
"Was that an offer I heard?" he mocked. "You know I take such offers quite seriously, demon girl..." He leered at her to drive the point home.
"No, it was actually a threat." She stopped. "Wait, that sounded totally wrong."
Bishop laughed coarsely. "If you think any man would find that the least bit intimidating as a threat, you're in deep shit, girl." He grinned wickedly. "Especially not me."
She waved it away, and began scratching at her chest. She often scratched it, and until recently, she never figured out why. Now she knew. And wish she hadn't found out. Because people down wanted her dead for it.
"So, Aeyryn, he prodded smoothly. "What's it like having a big chunk of a githyanki iron toothpick wedged in your chest cavity? Do you suddenly feel any more special?" An idea suddenly popped into his head, and he pressed on slyly. "I hear you have a big scar where it went in. I was wondering when you were going to show it to me, me now being your personal tracker and scout." He smirked suggestively.
"It's a silver shard, you fucking block-head." She retorted. "And I'm not that loaded. No, you may not see my scar. That's almost as contrived when I tried to arrest Sir Darmon as an excuse to frisk him." She clicked her tongue in reprimand. "Nice try, though. I'll give you a mark for effort, nature boy."
Bishop grunted. "Hey, it was worth a shot." He leaned back. "Don't say I never asked."
She propped herself up on her elbows and pulled herself into a cross-legged sitting position, hair tumbling around her shoulders and into her face. She shook it back and scratched near one of her horns. "I won't, I promise." She glanced around the room, puzzled. "Did this room suddenly grow to three times its size since I came in, or am I honest and truly fucked out of my skull?"
"The latter, most definitely," Bishop replied. "Just go with it. Believe me; it gets much weirder from here." He was starting to feel the full on effects himself, and he placed his palms flat on the floor to steady his swaying body. He heard Karnwyr shift, and realized he had forgotten about his lupine friend. Karnwyr sighed, deep in his own dreams, and resumed his muffled snores. Bishop reached over and gave the wolf a scratch on the ears before returning his attention back to Aeyryn.
The tiefling was now fascinated by something on her arm, and after a few moments, Bishop realized it was a fair sized spider. The girl lifted her arm so the spider was now at eye level, and she moved her head closer until the spider was mere inches from her eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, she picked the spider off her arm and set it on her nose. Bishop shivered with revulsion.
"Will you stop fucking around with that thing and just squash it?" he said nervously. "You're giving me the creeps." Bishop could count on one hand the things in life that actually had the capability of scaring the crap out of him. Spiders were one.
Aeyryn lifted her eyes to meet Bishop's, and her lips curled into a twisted grin. Between the eyes and lips, her nose was almost completely obscured by the impressive arachnid perched on it. Its two front legs rested on her lower eyelids. She casually rocked forward on her hands and knees, and started crawling towards Bishop, licking her lips with a predatory gleam in her eyes. She chuckled with what could have best been described by the ranger as unholy glee.
Normally, a woman crawling around on all fours licking her lips suggestively would have provoked a much different reaction from him. But he didn't take much notice of that part of it. The only thing he noticed was that a big spider was approaching waaaaay to close to him for his liking. He skidded away from the approaching tiefling in terror; his eyes locked on the spider whose front legs now waved teasingly in front of Aeyryn's eyes.
"Get away from me, you crazy bitch!" Bishop hissed. He jumped up and backed away, his heart hammering in his throat. He glanced around, and saw a large leather strap left over from a hide he used for a new pair of boots a couple months ago. He snatched it up and waved it menacingly at her. "I mean it, wench. I'll smash that fucking spider whether it's on your face or not." That gave him pause, but only briefly. Though he didn't like the idea of smacking the tiefling's face with a rawhide strap, the spider overrode all qualms at the moment.
Aeyryn's expression didn't waver a bit, and he wondered for a moment if even a strap across her face would stop her. She continued her slow, leisurely crawl and stopped a foot away from Bishop. She locked gazes with him, and the ranger suddenly realized that she had gotten this close and he hadn't even lifted his hand yet. Whether he was paralyzed from fright, too stoned, or something else stayed his hand, he did not know.
Suddenly she reared back and rested her hands on her knees, and cocked her head to one side. "Why Bishop," she purred coolly, "I never knew you were such a pussy! A big bad scary ranger like you, scared to shitting his pants over a little spider!" She wiggled her nose, and the spider lazily shifted over and crawled towards her cheek. She gently plucked it off her face by its abdomen, and held it up in the air for Bishop to examine. It waved its legs menacingly, and Bishop cringed. "See? He doesn't bite! I think he even likes you!"
"Last warning, girl. Get that fucking thing away from me!" he growled, and he gripped the strap tighter. He paused, and added, "And it's a she, not a he,
She sighed. "Fine, fine, you pansy." She got up and went over to the window, opened it, and placed the arachnid on the outside sill. Giving it a finger pat, she sent it on its merry way, the shut the window and turned back to Bishop. "There. The looming threat is gone. You can stop cowering like a whipped dog and come out of the corner, now."
Bishop stood up and stared daggers at her. "You sadistic little bitch," he growled. "Don't ever do that shit again, or by the Hells, so help me I will fucking gut you like a trout." He glanced down and realized his hands were shaking. He heard her snicker, and he shot her a glare. "And not a word about this to anyone. I fucking mean it, wench."
Her brows shot up and her eyes glittered. "Oh?" She ran the tip of her tongue across the edges of her teeth. "And how much are you gonna pay me to keep my mouth shut?" She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him cockily.
"Why you conniving little….." Bishop stopped, at a sudden loss for words. She got you there, Bishop thought bitterly. Turned your own game right back on you. And you walked right in, eyes wide open. He sighed, then growled: "Ok. You can keep your twenty gold. I hope you choke on it."
"Only twenty gold? Waukeen's tits, nature boy, the expression on the paladin's face if he knew this is worth at least double that." She's fucking enjoying this, the little cunt, Bishop thought silently.
"Twenty gold" Bishop said coldly, "And I don't jump over this bed and throttle you for even suggesting telling the paladin. I'd take the offer, wenchling, before I change my mind."
"I dare you to try, dogbreath," she breathed, her eyes narrowing as she started chewing her lip. "I so fucking dare you to try." Her arms dropped to her side, and her posture relaxed as if inviting him to take his best shot. He knew better, though. He had never seen anyone with the speed and reflexes Aeyryn had, and had doubted that even huva and black lotus could make any discernable difference. Especially since he had smoked much more.
Bishop studied her with a sudden new fascination. Her dark bronze brown hair hung in disarray about her head and shoulders, some loose strands veiling her glazed, unfocused eyes. Her black shirt was coming untucked from the waistband of her dark grey leather trousers, which rested snugly on her hips. She rocked lightly back and forth, from one foot to another, her chin lowered but her eyes still narrowed at him in challenge, teeth still biting at her lower lip. Nostrils flared open and shut in a slow, deliberate, unheard rhythm as her fingers followed in time, clenching and unclenching. He quickly got the impression she was almost hoping that we would try. Swamp girl really wants to take me on, the ranger quietly mused, and couldn't decide what prospect excited him more: making good on his threat or throwing her on the bed and screwing her dope addled brains out until she shrieked like a banshee.
"Decisions, decisions," he murmured, his mind flooding with images of both. Eventually, he found the mental images of option number two far more intriguing. He focused on one particular possibility, and he felt a drop of saliva dribble from his curled lip. "Say, Aeyryn, you aren't by any chance double jointed, are you?" he queried calmly.
Her expression suddenly changed from challenge to confusion. "Huh?" She shrugged. "Yeah, as a matter of fact I am, since you asked." And she offered a quick demonstration by lifting her right leg up and twisting it up, hooking her knee around the back of her neck and letting her boot dangle over her shoulder before unravelling the whole pose and returning to her former position. "Comes in handy in my line of work. Why do you want to……….." She broke of mid-sentence and her eyes widened as it dawned on her exactly why he asked. A shudder wracked her as she regarded Bishop warily, slightly backing against the windowsill. "I'm not liking the look on your face, ranger."
"Then you'll like what's on my mind even less," he murmured, a wicked smile forming. "But thank you, oh, by Sune's sweet ass, thank you, my very acrobatic leader, for a most enlightening display of your most impressive flexibility. You've just given me an image that my mind will elaborate on in graphic detail at night for many moons to come." He breathed a heavy, deep sigh. "I might even save myself some money from the cathouse. The fun I can have staying home, just me, a bottle of gin, a jar of beeswax ointment, and a mental image of you in.a basilisk skin corset, with your legs wrapped…."
"Oh, for fuck sake, Bishop, knock it off," she cut him off, her face twisted in a grimace of revulsion. "I sooooo do not want to know! Just keep it in that compost heap you call a brain." She motioned over to the nightstand next to Bishop. "And hand me the pipe, will you? After that shit, I need something to purge these horrifying images in my own mind."
Bishop passed the bowl and a lit match across the bed to her. "After you finish what's left in there, I got one more bowl left in the pouch, so we better make it count." She nodded in acknowledgement and proceeded to blaze away the remnants in the pipe before handing it back. "You do realize," he stated as he took the last pinch and packed it in the bowl, "That I have just gone through sixty gold's worth of dope in just two days?"
"Hey, don't blame me," Aeyryn protested. "I just showed up for the party today."
"I'm not. Well, not totally." He thought about it. "I would have had enough for another day trip had you not shown up." He shrugged. "What's done is done. No use moaning over it now." He sat on the edge of the bed and turned to offer her the pipe and a match. "Here. Your turn to break it in."
"Thanks." She sat next to him and took them both. "For a total cretin, you have pretty good manners." She lit, hit, exhaled, and returned the pipe and match to Bishop.
After a massive hit, Bishop retorted; "Why thank you. And for a bog-dwelling mentally unstable rube, you are actually pretty smart." He coughed. "Well, most of the time, anyway." He passed the pipe over his shoulder.
"Well, someone around here has to be." She poked him with the pipe, exhaling deeply.
Bishop briefly stirred the bowl with his dagger tip then re-ignited it. Upon exhaling, he set the pipe back on the stand, then turned himself around, and faced her. "Well, well, aren't we a mouthy little wench today! " he snorted. "Did you forget to eat your fruits and veggies for breakfast today, or are you just feeling deprived of a good smacking?"
She started to say something, then stopped. "Mmmmmmmmm." Aeyryn mumbled. "Fruits and veggies. Together in a stew. That sounds really good. Fuck, I'm hungry."
"I think I still got some road rations around here," Bishop said. "Well, somewhere around here. I think." He reclined back on the bed and kicked his boots up. "Happy hunting. Whatever you find, you share. Got it?"
"What's all this happy horseshit?" Aeyryn spat. "I'm doing your fucking job, as well as your thinking now?" When Bishop nodded nonchalantly, she groaned, stood up, and began sacking through different chests and piles of gear at the far end of the room. "Nine hells, Bishop," she groaned. "You're a bigger slob than I ever aspired to be! How the fuck am I supposed to find anything in all this crap?"
"Well, if you bitched less and looked more, you'd probably know the answer by now, wouldn't you?" She responded with a flying boot which narrowly missed hitting Bishop's forehead.
Eventually, she turned around with a couple bundles in her arms, and hooked her ankle around the chair leg and dragged it to the foot of the bed. She dumped the bundles and sat in the chair, tearing open a parcel of almonds as Bishop grabbed a leather pouch. "You seriously owe me for that, nature boy," she stated. "I got attacked by your socks, and your underwear had to be put out of their misery with a large blunt object."
"So sue me," Bishop mumbled through a mouthful of pork jerky. He glanced over at her lap and asked: "Are those almonds?" She nodded and he reached over and snatched a handful, stuffing them in his mouth barely a second after the jerky was swallowed.
"You should seriously try this chocolate cake," Aeyryn bit off another chunk and said: "Mmmmmmmmmm. Folkin gud, it ith."
"You like that, you will love the caramel fudge cookies in the grey bag there," Bishop suggested, nudging the bag with his boot. "But be careful, they are really gooey and make your teeth stick." He bit off another shred of pork jerky before he had even finished swallowing the almonds.
"So how in the Nine Hells do you get all the good stuff for your road rations, anyway?" Aeyryn asked. She was eating a cookie, fudge and caramel smeared all over her hands and face. "Duncan sure as hell never puts anything other than dried meat, stale bread, and leek pies in my pack."
"Well, there's your problem right there," Bishop pointed out. "Leaving it to your dipshit uncle to handle. Duncan never had much imagination. If he ever did, he's already drunk it up and pissed it out." He picked up another handful of almonds, and said "And before you ask, no. I'm not telling you where I get the cakes and cookies from, either."
"Stingy bastard," Aeyryn snorted. She licked her fingers rapidly before reaching for another cookie.
"Gotta be me." Bishop released a juicy belch and folded his hands across his abdomen. He studied Aeyryn's face, which was now a mess of cookie crumbs, chocolate, and caramel. Strands of hair stuck to her cheeks. She looked like she had just eaten out of a trough. "You realize your probably have more food stuck to your face and shirt than you've actually swallowed."
"Saving it all for later," she smiled sweetly. "Since when do my table manners, or lack of, concern you anyways?"
"They don't. Just noting that even Karnwyr manages to devour a carcass with less mess than you do a bag of cookies."
"Well, bully for him!" Aeyryn leaned back and released a belch of her own. "That sure hit the spot. I'm gonna have to raid your room more often."
"I'll forget what you just said, which shouldn't be to hard at this point," Bishop said, his eyelids sliding to half mast as the huva and lotus took full effect. A low droning filled his head, and the room once again became warped. He had the pleasant sensation that he was floating, and was worried if he continued to rise, he would smack his head on one of the ceiling beams. The feeling ended abruptly when Karnwyr leapt up from the floor and on to his stomach, knocking the wind from him.
"Goddamnit, Karn," Bishop gasped hoarsly. As he tried to sit up, Karnwyr pushed him back down and began licking his face. Bishop pushed the wolf off and tried to regain his breath. "What's the matter with you? Why'd you have to fuck it up like that?" He started wheezing, then slowly was able to take deep breaths. Karnwyr nosed him impatiently, and Bishop understood. "Oh, I see. You gotta use the crapper."
He strolled over to the door and let an anxious Karnwyr dart out of the room. Bishop was too unsteady and too damned stoned to accompany his wolf companion, but it didn't matter. The wolf could find his way around, and people at the Flagon were used to him by now. He turned back towards his bed, and noticed that Aeyryn was still in her chair, head rolling from side to side, eyes half lidded in narcotic rapture. She appeared oblivious to everything around her, a lazy permanent grin plastering her pale face as one finger twirled absently with a lock of hair. Bishop waved his hand in front of her face, and when she did not respond, he snorted. "Well, looks like one of us at least has left Faeurun behind for a while, at least."
The ranger returned to his bed and laid back down. It didn't take long before his previous weightlessness returned, and he sighed contentedly. The earlier fears of striking the ceiling beams were unfounded; as Bishop reached the ceiling, it vanished leaving only the cloudy night sky. It suddenly occurred to Bishop that it was indeed night. Night already? He thought with faint shock. I could have sworn it was afternoon when swamp wench popped in. Just how fucking long have we been in here? Bishop decided that he really didn't care, and thinking about anything at this point would only make his head split. Don't fuck this trip up by thinking. Just let it go and ride it till it's broke.
A sudden frantic booming ended Bishop's flight and he felt himself spiral back onto his bed with a heavy thud. He sat up, trying to focus his mind back to Neverwinter. He realized the booming was the door pounding. He looked over, and the door rattled so violently that the ranger was certain that it would bust into splinters. Aeyryn was not oblivious to this distraction, and she warily watched the door in a mixture of contempt and fascination.
"What the motherfuck is it this time, Duncan?" Bishop shouted. "Don't tell me you can still smell it down in the bar!" Bishop was angry, and decided he had about enough.
The door stopped convulsing, but the voice on the other side wasn't the scratchy, speedy brogue of the half elf. Instead, it was a deep, rich, smooth baritone that resonated discipline and resolve. "It is not Duncan, Bishop. And I'm not here to discuss your vices." The voice did not disguise its contempt.
"You?" Bishop snarled in equally undisguised disgust. "And why in the Nine fucking Hells are you bothering me, Casavir? Don't you have prayers to babble or your pecker to shine?"
"Watch your filthy tongue, ranger," the paladin hissed slowly in reply. "I am getting weary of your foul mouth and am in a state of mind to silence it."
"Oh, are you now? Well, paladin, if you want to try, be my guest. Though I never hear you telling sweet little Aeyryn you are gonna silence her filthy little mouth, and that little wench has a tongue on her that would make a Luskan pirate faint." Bishop shot Aeyryn a glance, and continued. "Is that why you are here, numbnuts? To confront me about my fucking language with one of your holy ramblings?"
"No, it is not," Casavir growled shortly. "Aeyryn has been missing since this afternoon, and we are all growing very worried." He paused. "Especially…….Duncan."
And you, tinhead, Bishop thought bitterly. He looked over at the tiefling who was shaking her head in frustration. The ranger found himself feeling a pinprick of pity for the girl, which surprised him, as pity was as foreign to him as avarice was to Casavir. Poor wench, Bishop sighed inwardly. You will never get any peace, will you? The decision was easy this time.
"I'll tell you the same thing I told Duncan, paladin, and I will say it slower this time, so that it might seep in to that thick head of yours," Bishop roared. "I haven't seen the bog bitch, dunno where she is, care even less, and if you ask me in another 15 minutes, you'll get the same reply."
"I am not asking you if you have seen, her, you festering pus filled boil on the sphincter of Faerun" Casavir replied testily. "I came here to let you know we need your help in finding her."
"You what?" Bishop exclaimed. "You want me to track our leader right now through this city because she stepped out for a few hours? Are you out of your fucking mind?" He shook his head in disbelief. Aeyryn's expression was blank. "You do know that she is an adult, and if she wants to take off and do whatever the hells she wants, she can, and no one can do a damn thing about it."
"I am aware of this,"Casavir replied shortly. "However, given the recent events with the githyanki attacking the inn and other forces at work, we are worried, and rightly so, since she left with no one seeing her, or informing anyone that she was going anywhere. As much as it pains me to say this, Bishop, we need your help."
"Oh well, now, lets all sound the alarms, shall we?" Bishop sneered. "She's a rogue. They vanish all the time without telling anyone. It's part of their charm. As for the gith, well, in case you forgot, our fearless leader slaughtered them quite capably with little help." Bishop scowled. "Or were you too busy staring at her ass and praying that Tyr would smite such thoughts from your religion addled brain?"
"Do not speak of her that way, you degenerate toad," Casavir snapped, and from his tone, Bishop was worried he might actually bust through the door. "Do not speak of any woman that way when you are around me. I have no tolerance for such craven disrespect of women by someone so base that he can only fill his empty bed through threats or the promise of coin."
"Oh, my bed stays occupied just fine without whores or money," Bishop retorted. "A lot more than I can say for you, tin can. The only thing going on in your bed at night is praying and denial." Bishop smiled. He never thought that the paladin would amuse him so much. He was really enjoying this.
"Enough of this!" Casavir snarled. "If you want to settle this now, step outside, you coward. Otherwise, get dressed and come down to the common room so we can set out."
"Uhhhh…..Casavir, you did not just give me an order," Bishop said dangerously. "I know you didn't, because you aren't that suicidal. And as far as your request, I've got one for you. Go fuck yourself. And everyone else. I'm not going anywhere. And the next person coming up here to pester me is going to get a dagger in the face. Now piss off, paladin."
There was a long pause, then Casavir rumbled slowly and dangerously: "If that is your decision, then fine. But I am warning you, black heart, if something should happen to her because of your sloth, I will make you regret the day your mother met your father." The heavy footsteps grew further away from the door, signalling the paladin's departure.
Bishop turned to Aeyryn and smiled. "Don't bother. That one was on the house. Can't rightfully charge you for something I totally enjoyed." The tip of her nose twitched and her lips parted into an "awww, shucks" grin.
"Well, let me at least pay you back for drawing the panic parade to your doorstep," the tiefling replied. "You might have actually had more dope and peace and quiet had I not disappeared." She smiled wryly. "Gods, Shandra was right. I really am a magnet for trouble and strife."
Bishop waved it away. "No, don't worry about it. In all honesty, I think I've had more fun with you showing up anyway. Even your shithead uncle and tin nuts showing up was kinda fun. Yelling at them felt pretty good. That elf druidess would say it's 'theraputic' or some other crap."
Aeyryn gazed at him for a bit, then said, "Well, then at least let me buy your next bag for you, since I helped you smoke this one. It's the least I can do, and I'd be sharing it anyway."
"Is that so?" Bishop asked, amused. "So now you know who has the connections in this joint, I can expect you to come barging into my room every time you're bored?"
"Well, no, actually," Aeyryn said in a lilting tone. "You can come to my room. Or we can go to the park, or the wharf, or somewhere else!"
"Hmmm….lemme think about it." Bishop smirked. "I suppose I could occasionally let you in on it, provided you go in halves. And let everyone know you are going to be on the missing list for a while."
"Done!" Aeyryn held out her hand and they shook hands. "Speaking of which, I suppose I should make an appearance in the common room before they have the Greycloaks tearing this place up." She motioned towards the window. "I can climb out and come in through the front, so they will think I really did step out."
Bishop frowned. "Going so soon, swamp girl? After all the covering up I did for you? I'm hurt." He made a mock pout and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just smoke my dope and run, wont ya?"
"Well, if I don't show up, they will keep bothering you and me," Aeyryn explained. "Who knows? Casavir might just break the door down next time." She glanced down at the floor and shrugged. "I still can't believe he was so freaked out."
"What did I tell you, eh?" Bishop asked smugly. "He wants sheathe his 'holy sword' in your loins, girl."
"You have a way with words, ranger," Aeyryn chuckled. "But I think you're hallucinating there. He has never so much as winked at me. I think you just aren't used to anyone like him who takes all this duty and honor shit so seriously. And he's just being nice and chivalrous and all that crap anyway."
Bishop snorted. "Believe what you want, demon girl. I know what I'm talking about."
Aeyryn sighed and waved it away. "Forget it. But I should leave, anyway. As much as I'd rather not, since your company has been far less obnoxious than normal."
"Ahhh, you honey-tongued bog dweller," Bishop cooed. "But even if you go, they will still come and bother me, and I'm getting a bit bored sitting around here all day. You said you wanted to buy the next bag? I'll take you there now."
"Yeah?" Aeyryn's eyes brightened, and she smiled. "You are going to take me to your dealer?"
"Well no," Bishop said. "My normal 'associate' has left town for a tenday, and the others I'd rather not deal with unless I have to." Bishop stood up and grabbed his tunic and slipped it over his head. "No, we are going to the Blacklake. They are having a month long concert/music festival there, and where there are concerts, there are tons of people who have a wide range of mind candy for sale and sharing."
"Blacklake? Where all those noble twats live?"
"The same!" Bishop replied as he pulled his leathers on and began fastening them up. "Oh, trust me, bog wench, the nobles are some of the biggest users you will ever see. Don't let all that gentry crap fool you. When I was doing smuggling runs into Neverwinter, Blackelake was the destination of 60 percent of all product bound for this city." Bishop tightened his belt. "Nobles are a bunch of fucking hypocrites."
"Sounds like it," Aeyryn mused. "I never knew about the drugs, but Neeshka told me that the nobility are into all sorts of weird sexual kinks. Ophala had all sorts of stories of the strange and perverse that went on in the Moonstone Mask back in its day."
"Wouldn't surprise me," the ranger said. "At least the Luskan leadership doesn't hide the fact that they are a bunch of sick deviant fucks."
"Where do you want to meet up anyway?" Aeyryn asked as she threw open the window and slung her leg over the side. "I can't come out with you, obviously, so we should arrange a point to rendezvous."
"How about at the burnt out watch HQ?" Bishop suggested. He looked her over. "And aren't you forgetting something? Like oh, your leathers, your cloak, and your weapons?"
"Oh shit," Aeyryn smacked her forehead in exasperation. "I'll have to climb over the roof and sneak in through my bedroom window and get it. I can't risk going through the halls."
"Good idea," Bishop stated "before you go, though, here." He handed her a bottle of gin and a. old rag. "Clean all that shit off your face. You look like you spent the day face down in a gutter."
Aeyryn soaked the rag with the old gin, and rubbed her face vigorously until it was red. The caramel and chocolate smears disappeared as she wiped, then tossed the rag back on the floor. "How is it now? Did I get it all?"
"Yeah," Bishop replied. "You still look like you just escaped from the asylum. But at least your face is clean."
"Good enough." Aeyryn deftly pulled herself out of the window and on to the ledge. "I'll see at the watch HQ in a half an hour, ok?"
"Done", Bishop agreed, and he watched as she pulled herself up, her legs dangling, then disappearing from view. He felt worried for a moment that she might slip and fall. It was raining and she was stoned. His worries ended when he heard a faint skittering on the rooftop. Like a fucking cat, Bishop mused. He checked his weapons and grabbed his cloak, then shut the window and headed out the door.
As he entered the common room, he glanced around. The place was half empty. Over at the middle table Duncan, Casavir, Grobnar, and Khelgar were discussing something. Probably their darling little tiefling maid whose gone missing, Bishop decided. The one who I'm gonna be meeting in thirty minutes to go make a drug deal in Blacklake with. Ahhh, Duncan, don't worry, she's in good hands. I promise I won't turn her into a slavering little junkie. Maybe.
Duncan looked up and saw Bishop walking past them, and he grabbed the ranger's arm. "So you finally decided you are going to help us now?" Duncan asked.
"Fuck no, you half-breed dimwit," Bishop said, annoyed, as he wrenched his arm away from the innkeeper. "I'm on my way to the brothel. All these interruptions with you people looking for the poor little Harborgirl has made me realize I haven't been to the cathouse in a week, and am gonna go look for a wench of my own!"
Casavir glanced coolly at the ranger, his penetrating blue eyes regarding Bishop with contempt. "I see. Carousing and rutting like some farm animal take priority, then? Feeding your own base urges when someone who has been more generous with you than you deserve could be in trouble?"
"Yeah. Sounds about right!" Bishop chirped. He cocked his head and smirked at the paladin. "If you're worried about those base urges of your own, I can always take you to the whorehouse with me. I know a few girls that could help you forget about the little swamp wench for a bit. I might even put the money down for you. It'd be worth it to be rid of you and your sexual frustrations for a while."
Casavir leapt up, his normally fair skin reddening in anger. "You dare, you filthy little whoreson! I should…." Duncan jumped up between the two men, pushing both away at arms length.
"Casavir, don't. He's doing this to get a rise out of you. Don't play his games," Duncan pleaded with the paladin, and he turned his head to Bishop. "You. Just get the hell out of here. Go on, you heartless prick. We can find her on our own."
Bishop shrugged, and turned. "As you like it, Duncan. Happy hunting!" he called out as he strolled out the door.
The cool, damp breeze of the wet night brushed against his face and he breathed a sigh. Karnwyr trotted over from around the corner and rubbed against Bishop's leg. Absently, he patted the wolf's head as he stared out into the Neverwinter night. The streetlamps threw out a muted halo of light through the haze of the light rain, barely illuminating the cloaked and hooded people milling about. Pulling his own hood up, he stepped off the porch and headed towards the City watch ruins.
Well now, this day certain has been a sweet surprise, Bishop thought as he and Karnwyr strode in silence. And to think you are goinna be scoring some wacky weeds with Duncan Farlong's hick niece. I really am beginning to like this wench. She could almost make you completely forget about that worthless mother fucker of a drunk uncle of hers.
Almost.