This fan fiction about Bishop takes place while he is still working for the Luskans, before the tragic events of Redfallow'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 II

By Ryoushi © 2007

When he awoke, he noticed right away the cloak draped over him like a blanket. And he knew it was her cloak too; he could smell her female scent on it, like a mixture of fire, spices, herbs, and flowers. He could also sense a faint protective magic woven into the fabric. Karnwyr was sleeping next to him, half tucked under the cloak. Bishop growled and nudged the wolf sharply, "Whelp – couldn't even wake me when she was standing here! What good are you?" The large canine raised an eyebrow at him intelligently as if to say you didn't wake up either!

There wasn't any dew on the cloak – she had just been there. But he knew she was no longer in the immediate vicinity. She wasn't a fool; if she knew what was good for her, she'd be running at top speed now. The chase was back on. The purple ghost had just flitted from his grasp.

Bishop hurriedly packed up his camp, taking the cloak and stuffing it in his pack. He didn't know why he bothered to take it; he couldn't image she would just give herself up after running for so long and he wasn't going to give her back a protective cloak if he needed to fight her. And if she was a corpse by the end of it… well, all the more reason to leave the bulky cloak behind. Still…something urged him to take the cloak and he relented. He knew better than to ignore his instincts and if he was wrong in this case, he could sell it back in the city for some gold. It wasn't that bulky anyway.

She was headed towards the mountains, taking a twisted but steady path. He had been chasing after her for the better part of two hours when suddenly Karnwyr let out a yip in the distance. Bishop hurried his stride. Surely she couldn't be ahead? He ducked into the shadows of the trees, pulling out his longbow. When he broke through the underbrush he saw lying in the middle of the glade a small suit of leather armor. Karnwyr was circling it and sniffing excitedly.

"Well well well…what do we have here?" He lifted the armor and examined it. It light and well built, with not a single scratch upon it. Either it was new or she had never seen battle. Or at least had never been hit in battle. The leather was faintly warm; she was close. Karnwyr was dancing around, nipping at invisible insects in the grass: he knew they were close as well.

Bishop paused, considering his quarry. What was she doing? Lightening her load so she could run faster, unencumbered? Hoping to slow him down? Was she setting a trap for him? He knew he couldn't remain stealthy and track her at a running speed, but there was no time to think further. The more he stopped, the further she got. He stuffed the armor into his pack. She may have had a head start this morning but he could run for longer.

The first boot was on one side of the riverbank, the second on the other. Bishop picked up each of the fine leather footwear and put them in his pack, along with the cloak, the armor, a pair of bracers, a belt and some gloves he had thus far collected. He also took the opportunity to refill his water skin. Tracking over vast distances had taught him to always take water when it was available. By now, he was more concerned with what she was planning. Could she only shapechange or cast spells when unamored or naked? He thought of her, a beautiful woman from what the half-elf had said, running naked through the woods. If he caught her, maybe he could pretend to offer her mercy and freedom in exchange for…well, her. He'd still have to turn her over to the Hosttower mages in the end but she didn't need to know that. It was likely she wouldn't be alive long enough to feel really betrayed by him anyway, knowing them.

Bishop frowned and splashed some of the cool water onto his face. Why was she leaving him a trail like this? Pretty soon she would be totally defenseless against any weapon but he doubted a girl like her would ever be truly defenseless. He knew she couldn't be leading him into a trap; she had had plenty of opportunities to kill him already yet had refrained from doing so. "Women," Bishop snorted derisively. "Even out here they don't make sense." Karnwyr looked up at the sound of his voice, eager to keep moving. He knew she would be running more slowly now that she was barefoot but it would be harder to track her. Not that he really needed it – not when she was letting herself be followed.

The sun was setting in the western skies, the skies melting in reds and oranges. By now they were in the shadows of the mountains. Karnwyr was panting as he trotted besides Bishop. The past three hours they had collected two small jeweled rings, and a silver necklace. A few times he had thought he had glimpsed her ahead, a fleeting shadow darting between trees but when he ran to catch up, the figure promptly disappeared from view. For all he knew, she could have shapeshifted into a mouse and he had run right past her. He was seriously entertaining the thought of sticking an arrow through that half-elven messenger more and more.

Suddenly ahead he spotted the edge of a sleeved shirt, sticking out from behind a tree. She was hiding behind a tree? That was an amateur move – a little too amateur – and it stank of an ambush. He pulled out his long sword and crept forward, his ears and eyes alert. But the evening was still and she didn't move from her position. He decided then that he wasn't going to creep up slowly to her and give her a chance to fire off a spell – he charged forward, sword in hand, ready to make a killing stroke if she made any aggressive move.

But he stopped short when he reached tree. Instead of a girl, it was just her shirt, stuffed full of leaves and nailed to the trunk. Oldest trick in the book. Bishop cursed himself for falling for it. He had been not patient enough and too anxious that maybe his hunt was finally over. Those kinds of mistakes could get you killed, he thought angrily to himself, and if they do, then you deserve it. He glanced down and noticed a thin dagger lying on the ground beneath the shirt. So she had left him her weapon as well. No armor, no weapon, no clothes. He looked over for his wolf and noticed the animal staring fixedly in the distance, tail wagging slightly. Bishop followed Karnwyr's gaze and noticed the thin plume of smoke snaking upwards from a small hidden glen.

A live campfire.

She had to be here.

And she had to be expecting him.

Bishop glanced back at her shirt nailed to the tree and grudgingly took it down. He had brought her all her other gear and equipment all this way; he might as well bring her her shirt. He picked up her dagger as well and was surprised at how light it was. Probably enchanted.

He walked cautiously towards the fire, every sense alert and ready. He crept up to the edge of the small clearing and surveyed the scene from the darkness. There was a small fire with a rabbit cooking on a spit. A small bottle of wine, half drunk, was propped against a rock. Her bedroll was empty. His eyes finally fell upon her pair of worn brown leather pants, carefully laid out besides the bedroll, by the fire. But no girl.

Karnwyr nuzzled his hand, whining. Bishop had to admit the smell of the cooking game was tempting but he could never take food from the enemy. Especially an enemy he couldn't see and who was expecting him. He shoved Karnwyr off, "Go find your own damn rabbit. You're a wolf, not some lapdog." The wolf gave the skewered rabbit one last long look before disappearing into the darkness.

Bishop sat against a tree at the edge of glade, his sword ready. He would wait all night for her to return if he had to.