Hey OP! Hope you don't mind a multi fill...pun intended ;) I saw your prompt and could resist- though it ended up being the darkest thing I have ever written o.O. Hope you like it...
Dusk was drawing near when I finally reached the ruins of Irkngthand. As I took sight of the majestic ruins built into the mountainside I felt the dark coil of excitement uncurl in the pit of my stomach. Soon Mercer Frey would be bleeding on the end of my sword. But it wouldn't be a quick death. Not after all he's done.
A flicker of movement caught my eye as I made my way through the gate and into the courtyard, pressed against the wall in order to keep to the shadows. Bandits. So Mercer's made some new friends. They were spaced out in pairs and I was tempted to see if I could take them out but Karliah and Brynjolf wouldn't be here until tomorrow. I was here early, against Brynjolf's orders, to make sure Mercer was here before Karliah went on her vengeance spree. So I suppressed my murderous urges and began the tedious task of sneaking through the camp. The three pairs of bandits out on patrol were too busy drinking and chatting about the latest tavern wench they'd fucked to pay any attention to the swiftly moving shadow that flitted through the darkness. They hadn't even posted a guard at the door to the complex and I had to fight down the feeling that this was too easy as I reached for my picks and set to work on the door.
The door opened with a torturous clang to reveal another bandit and a mage in hooded robes stood round a fire, staring straight at me with widening smirks and I felt a sharp sting on my neck. My hand flew to my neck to clasp a tiny dart. Shit! Trap! Instinct sent me rolling forward, snatching at my sword, left hand scrambling to conjure healing magicka to buy me time. But it was too late. As my vision began to blur and I collapsed to my knees, spell dying, I realised the bastards hadn't moved and were stood laughing at me. All I could do was kneel there, trying to put off the inevitable. Soft footsteps approaching made my eyes weakly flicker open and a rough hand at my chin forced my face up to stare at the bastard who was behind this. Mercer Frey. "I've been waiting for you, my little Nightingale." Then the rising waves of darkness overtook me.
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timeasmymeasure
The Die is Cast 1/?
Date: 2013-05-12 01:38 pm (UTC)Prompt:filled es:skyrim char:Mercer char:bandits char:F!PC char:Dragonborn race:Breton race:Nord race:Orc race:Dunmer relationship:het kink:noncon kink:machine kink:double_penetration kink:triple_penetration kink:group_sex kink:dark kink:rough_sex kink:biting kink:anal kink:bondage kink:sub
Dusk was drawing near when I finally reached the ruins of Irkngthand. As I took sight of the majestic ruins built into the mountainside I felt the dark coil of excitement uncurl in the pit of my stomach. Soon Mercer Frey would be bleeding on the end of my sword. But it wouldn't be a quick death. Not after all he's done.
A flicker of movement caught my eye as I made my way through the gate and into the courtyard, pressed against the wall in order to keep to the shadows. Bandits. So Mercer's made some new friends. They were spaced out in pairs and I was tempted to see if I could take them out but Karliah and Brynjolf wouldn't be here until tomorrow. I was here early, against Brynjolf's orders, to make sure Mercer was here before Karliah went on her vengeance spree. So I suppressed my murderous urges and began the tedious task of sneaking through the camp. The three pairs of bandits out on patrol were too busy drinking and chatting about the latest tavern wench they'd fucked to pay any attention to the swiftly moving shadow that flitted through the darkness. They hadn't even posted a guard at the door to the complex and I had to fight down the feeling that this was too easy as I reached for my picks and set to work on the door.
The door opened with a torturous clang to reveal another bandit and a mage in hooded robes stood round a fire, staring straight at me with widening smirks and I felt a sharp sting on my neck. My hand flew to my neck to clasp a tiny dart. Shit! Trap! Instinct sent me rolling forward, snatching at my sword, left hand scrambling to conjure healing magicka to buy me time. But it was too late. As my vision began to blur and I collapsed to my knees, spell dying, I realised the bastards hadn't moved and were stood laughing at me. All I could do was kneel there, trying to put off the inevitable. Soft footsteps approaching made my eyes weakly flicker open and a rough hand at my chin forced my face up to stare at the bastard who was behind this. Mercer Frey.
"I've been waiting for you, my little Nightingale."
Then the rising waves of darkness overtook me.