Neverwinter Nights 2 starts slow and snowballs into a classic D&D 3.5 adventure with some truly glorious setpieces. Here began my bard, the original, pre-Veilguard Lynesse. I published a scattering of stories, and I’ll reprint one here.
Lynesse felt her throat constricting when Bishop came into view. She was perched on the fence of a tiny courtyard behind the new inn, and Casavir in the center had been a willing listener for some of the musical spells she was considering adding to her repertoire. The man had an excellent ear for music and very little sense for how it might interact with his paladin’s battle space. Sometimes fitting ideas in past his prayers got difficult.
Then, Bishop. The tall Ranger strolled down the beaten path, one hand habitually gripping the knife at his belt. He looked from Lynesse to Casavir and back. “Oh, fair Captain, I crave an audience.”
Casavir frowned bullishly. “You would do well to stop calling her that.”
“Do you dispute that she’s the Captain, or that she’s fair? Answer carefully, she’s listening.”
“Casavir, you may as well ask a carcass to stop stinking.” Lynesse was never sure how angry to act. Too much and Bishop would enjoy her displeasure, too little and Casavir would think her inattentive. Sometimes she wasn’t sure how angry to feel. Bishop danced on the edge of being too much trouble to keep. When she needed someone dead? He’d have scalp and pockets’ contents by the day’s end. It wasn’t the kindest calculation, but he pulled his weight and she tolerated his sarcasm. “Go on. I’ll come for you.”
Casavir cast Bishop a sullen look, gave Lynesse a courtly bow, and walked off carrying his air of total solidity with him.
“How is your sweetheart on double entendres?” Bishop said idly. “Or is he too pure to notice that kind of thing?”
“What is it you want, Bishop?”
His gaze did the signature thing where it started on her feathered cap, dawdled down her body, then swung wide to climb the fence and grove toward the wide sky. “Reports are in,” he said conversationally. “The King of Shadows is massing his forces. Aren’t you afraid?”
“I’m massing mine,” she said. “I’m not worried yet.”
He scoffed. “Are you ever afraid, fair Captain?”
“What would be the point? I get through.”
“You weren’t afraid facing the Shadow Captain.”
“No.”
“Nor Ammon Jerro.”
“No.”
“Nor Lorne?”
Lynesse bit her tongue. Bishop was smiling, not pleasantly. He knew damn well what emotional state she’d been in when he interrupted her vigil, the night before the trial by combat against the juggernaut Lorne. He knew.
To fill the silence where he liked to maraud, she confessed, “I was afraid.”
“Good girl. Summon up that level of sense again and you might just get through this.”
She would, thanks to her friends. “I need to know where he’s gathering. if I sent you to scout east of the city, would you do it?”
“My dear Captain. I’m here for your whim.” He looked her over. “So tell me when you get an interesting one.” He smiled ferally, aped Casavir’s bow, and strolled away.
If she could peel his look off her skin she would, but it was too late for that. Her composure was not returning. Coming for Casavir…she stayed still for a while, at least until she stopped blushing.
I have written more about Lynesse and Bishop elsewhere, because their toxic, not exactly consensual relationship is spiky in interesting ways.
Actually, there’s another Bishop one-shot on Tumblr.
And the ending to his storyline, also on Tumblr. It spoils the end of the game and the end of the relationship. He wouldn’t stick around.
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