Note: This is not a cohesive story at this point. Instead each post is--or will be--a plot bunny or small fragment of what might eventually take place as either one very long fic covering both the NWN2 OC and MotB, or as two slightly shorter fics covering each storyline separately. This chapter takes place immediately after Sand has scryed the first shard and taken leave of the group at the Sunken Flagon.
Disclaimer: I do not own NWN2. Most of the dialogue in this snippet is not taken directly from the game, however, the only thing I own is the character of Eirylynn Signe, better known as Eiry. This story is written solely for fun and not for profit. I love my stories very much; please do not print or post them elsewhere without my knowledge. Thank you.
Eiry stared after him, then shrugged slightly and braced her hands against the table, ready to push herself to her feet.
"Here, now, lass," Duncan said, eyeing her sharply. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm going to find my way into trouble, like the elf said," Eiry said flatly, and began to laugh.
"Perhaps you should break your fast," Elanee said softly. "You look a bit pale and dazed."
"I'm fine," Eiry said shortly, running her hand down her face. But she didn't slide off the stool. "It's just the sheer poetry of it," she tried to explain, shaking her head in awe.
"Might as well take time for a drink," Khelgar added. Eiry snorted at the look he and Neeshka exchanged. She felt wryly pleased to see the two of them agree about something—but it would never last.
Her trouble on the other hand…
""I hardly need to find my way into trouble when I get swept up and carried away by it—kicking and screaming like Persphone at every turn. Finding a way out of trouble, on the other hand… that would be novel…" Eiry raised her head suddenly, a vaguely maniacal gleam in her eye. "Well, I'll be damned. That hedge wizard is every bit as brilliant as he claims."
"Uh, now…" Duncan paused, as if suddenly realizing he couldn't recall her name…if, in fact, he had ever known it.
"Eiry," Neeshka supplied for him, looking a bit piqued. "Well, Eirylynn Signe, if you want to be official and all that, I guess…but we just call her Eiry—she said we could!" she added hastily, lest her familiarity be misunderstood. Though Eiry wasn't exactly sure what Duncan could or would do, even if it occurred to him object.
"I think your druid friend—"
"Elanee," Neeshka chirped helpfully. Duncan shot her a look.
"—has a bit of a point. If you think Sand has a drop of sense, you're delirious—and for heaven's sake, don't let him hear you—we'll never again hear the end of it, if you do."
"Who knew the only way out of trouble was to find a way in?" Eiry mused, still chuckling. "That's a better riddle than any Tarmas ever composed."
"Tarmas?" Duncan repeated thoughtfully, taking another tact. Oh, yes, Eiry could really grow to like him. "I don't believe I know him."
"What?" Eiry asked, voice silky, words unkind, "Daeghun didn't tell you about him?"
There was a soft noise—a chuckle, or perhaps a snort—from the ranger at the end of the bar.
Duncan winced.
Eiry felt an instant twinge of guilt…and the faintest trace of satisfaction. She'd gotten a little of her own back, anyway, for all the good it would do her—though it would have been better to take it from Daeghun instead of this relatively innocent bystander…but, hey, you made do with what you had. Daeghun—and life in West Harbor—had taught her that.
"I suppose I deserved that—or Daeghun did," Duncan said with resignation. "But in spite of my shortcomings, I was hoping you might stick around for a bit and give your old Uncle Duncan a chance to get acquainted with his next-to-only kin."