So this is another Bishop fanfic.

Disclaimer:
I do not own Obsidian, NWN2, nor any of the characters except for Bright. Thank you :)

Dear Writers...
This is by no means an attempt at proving to be better than you. I respect all writers, as well as all the people who give it a try at creating something. Besides, I'm still a beginner. This is just my contribution to the collection; sharing a bit of my visions, as that stuff usually differs.I've read some bright and nice NWN2 fanfiction, on Bishop, too, and decided I had little to add there, so I'll add to the other side :D That is why I've chosen the b----y Bright. You'll get to know her already.

For Readers to notice:
Some things from the original story might be slightly changed, some characters, even. The narrator here is Bishop, strange as it might be. We know he wouldn't be telling the tale and that he wouldn't be thinking it all in sentences to himself, but, well... Note that in these "confessions" he is more sincere than usual, as he's being forced to describe things.

Writer's note:
I'm not a native English speaker and I'd be glad to correct any language errors, if you point them out.
And, of course, no one's going to kill you if you review :D

A Predator's Confessions


Chapter I – She walked through the door

I was sitting at my corner, along the fireplace, wasting time, as usual. The Flagon never had many customers and I kept wondering why that fool Duncan struggled with keeping the place up. He kept babbling about giving me some kind of discount and making more money on other people, but I didn't notice others having to pay a much higher price for that service of his.

Good for him, that he endured me. Must have figured out how much he had messed up the day he "saved" me. He should had learned to figure things out on time. He'd have saved us both the trouble.

But that fool actually made it at bringing down some fun on me, in the end.

Anyway, his place looked and functioned too good for me to leave and he wasn't eager to release me of my debt for nothing either. At least he had seemingly endless supplies of ale to satiate my humble needs – well, he used to, until the dwarf showed up. And the waitress that used to come when Duncan couldn't be there was young, with a rich cleavage. Still, I hated her face, so I had never considered anything else but a backside job on her.

Women came and women gone; they were either too old, or with protection. I could only stare – while at the Flagon, at least. And the street wenches didn't make me feel any good in the long run.

Then came that day, when a redhead tiefling walked right in, past me and to a table, acting nonchalantly as if the place was her very little pit. She wasn't so bad-looking, except that bulls and the like never quite turned me on and she did resemble one.

She made herself comfortable, ordered some foul alcoholic drink and waited for a while. Then she turned to the entrance door and in an irritable, pitchy voice, said hi to someone. I turned my eyes to the door again, careful not to draw too much attention to myself. It was shadowed, although only up to about a half, with the figures of two more people. A dwarf and an elven wench.

The whole scene was worse than a zoo, with all of us at one place, including Duncan... And the newcomers... you couldn't find such dumb-looking beings in the wilds.

"But where's she?", the tiefling pitched all across the room.

"Off to deal with some bullies", the dwarf replied, his tone naught pleasanter for my ears. "Imagine that – the ungrateful little missy – to not even invite me!"

"For you to call her little, Khelgar...?", the tiefling screamed again, then burst into a laugh.

"Well, that girl can barely call herself a woman! Especially after how she behaves."

"Oh, she behaves alright, Stumpy. Besides, she's around my age."

"An' who said ye're to be taken seriously, fiendling?" Now the dwarf laughed and I thought of covering my ears, just for show.

The elven woman was struggling to get past the laughing dwarf, her movements betraying her exhaustion.

What I concluded to be some kind of a party was too strange and dull to my tastes, but there were two new female bodies to look at, and by the sound of it, another one was coming right up.

As the elven wench began her pace toward the tiefling one, across the room from me and further toward the bar-stand, I gave her a thorough examination. She was wearing some dirty-looking, already half-torn rags on her slender body and a chainmail wrapped in ties on her back.

She scowled at me, a stern, emotionless scowl, and, of course, I grinned right back in answer. The dwarf decided to follow her, but noticed nothing wrong with me...

For a while, the arguing duo led a talk that sounded so idiotic that I stopped caring, listening, and hoping to meet the Her. Just when I had returned my thoughts to the almost empty mug in front of me, the doorway darkened again, revealing a taller female silhouette.

Now that's a catch, I thought to myself.

She was thin, with shoulders barely wide enough to settle under the leather shoulder pads that seemed so huge on her, but nicely curved and with good hips. Instantly made me think of stuff...

Her long, curly hair fell loosely over her shoulders and breasts, pushed up with a leather corset, but it even fell over her face and flew all around. In other words, it was in a mess.

I barely kept myself from getting my usual non-knightly ideas. Didn't like the view Duncan had from his angle, even though I didn't care.

When she got in, with the contrast of light and darkness gone, her hair turned out hazel, her skin pale and expression angry.

She, too, started to pass me by, her hips waving seductively with each step. I must have been staring really intensely, for she stopped to give me a surprised look. Good thing the table had only my upper body show that moment, from where she was standing. And I suppose Duncan had also been looking at her at the time, lest he'd have called me a bastard or something.

"If I wanted a wench, I'd go to the local brothel", I said in a low tone, wanting only to see her blush.

With her level of being dressed and the stance that went with it, maybe it wasn't much of an offense after all. She stiffened her pretty mouth and sharply turned away, sending her hair whipping around and landing slowly again.

Then I got a view of her back, without a single burdening package, but only a lute hung over it. So, it was a bard missy. That had slightly turned me off, because I know how arrogant and lick-my-ass they know to be. The first sign of it with this one was that she succeeded at making others carry her luggage. Not that I wouldn't have, if I could.

The three faces from the table across turned to greet her, their smiles disappearing when they saw her the way she was.

"Had any trouble, lass?", the dwarf addressed her, as if aching to blame her but not daring to.

"No, no trouble fighting", she replied. And why in the Hells was her voice so seductive when she was talking to a dwarf? "I only hate it when they start hitting on me in the middle of the fight, too."

"But it was about money, wasn't it?", the elf spoke, her voice befitting her cold, yet foolishly caring appearance.

A short silence followed, in which time she had either smiled or scowled again; it was impossible to tell from her voice. "Elanee, with humans, how can you really know?"

The same, seductive voice. It took time to get used to it. I mean, she could not have had business with the druidess. And, of course, she had gotten me wondering about the "humans" thing. She seemed perfectly human from my perspective, so why was she patronizing the elven wench and the other two?

"Now, thank you for letting me settle it my way", she spoke again. "I think it's time for me to go do the important stuff."

With that, she went over to where Duncan, ready to hear the order, was standing, her hips still waving teasingly.

The half-breed began with one of his usual questions, but she startled him simply asking: "Are you Duncan?"

I could not have imagined the first thing he'd think about after this little seductress had made her appearance in front of him would had been money!

"Is this about money?", he stupidly replied, probably thinking very highly of his soon-to-be robbed arse. "Duncan's an old drunkard with not half a beaten copper to his name, lass."

She unsheathed a sword that hung from her lowly tied belt, which only brought me more fun to watch.

"Now listen here, Duncan", her voice grew stingier and louder as she spoke his name, "you pay now, in gold, or... in goodies!", she whispered. And pointed the sword to his thighs.

I barely sustained myself from laughter, hoping she was serious.