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skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2011-10-29 12:36 pm
skyrimkinkmeme) wrote2011-10-29 12:36 pm
Meme Announcements!
ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017
Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.
I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.
The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3
Thalmor loving anyone?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-03 07:26 am (UTC)(link)You see, during one of my play-throughs I encountered a Thalmor patrol escorting a prisoner. I didn't really think much of it so I just passed them by. Later on I noticed that for some reason one of the Justiciar's had essentially started stalking me. There weren't really any options to communicate with him. He bascially just followed me around until he died.
So the prompt here is that our DB (Can be male or female.I prefer human or mer race-wise.)encounters this same problem. Just what is this Thalmor doing? Has he defected? Just curious? Spying? How the DB reacts to this issue is up to you.
Bonus points if the two becomes good friends and said Justiciar defends the DB against other Thalmor. Also bonus point for romance (especially if DB is male.)
Re: Thalmor loving anyone?
(Anonymous) 2013-02-08 03:43 am (UTC)(link)Thalmor Than Bargained For 1/??
(Anonymous) 2013-02-24 06:20 am (UTC)(link)It was nigh on a week, and Nerundaen hadn't learned a damn thing of value. His conclusion, thus far, was that his target was valueless.
The man's (somewhat ridiculous) name was Caelus Atilius Casca, but Nerundaen thought of him as 'that coward.' He was quick to kill bandits, but he did so with arrows, while hidden; and once, at midday beneath a mountain, Nerundaen had felt the flow of air shift as a huge shadow passed overhead. He had correctly interpreted it as a dragon's shadow, and ducked beneath a boulder, and poked his head out to watch what he assumed would be an impressive battle - but, squinting through the forest, he'd spotted Casca...also underneath a boulder.
No battles were had that day, nor any since. The largest thing Casca deigned to fight without hiding was a goat, presumably because he had been too hungry for cowardice.
It had been a long and pointless journey across southern Skyrim, through mud and storms and annoyingly uncomfortable nights, and Nerundaen was done. This was the last night he would suffer.
So he waited until the moon was high, and Casca had been lying still on his bedroll for some time, and crept over to where he lay. He had never seen the man up close: he kept his face clean-shaven, like his Cyrodiil countrymen, but wore his hair long, like a Nord. His leather armor was unusually well-made, at a glance - and unusually form-fitting - but none of this was particularly important. A bow, a quiver full of arrows, and twin daggers lay on the ground by Casca's fingers; a small leather pack attached to the quiver held nothing but a tiny vial of thick green glass and a bit of seashell on a cord.
That was it. Nerundaen sat back on his heels, frowning at his sleeping target. No more, then: he was going back to the Embassy in the morning to report, politely, that they had wasted his time.
He retreated to his bedroll in the forest and slept.
Until a sharp pain in his arms and a weight on his chest woke him.
"Good morning." Casca was smiling down at him, twirling the point of a steel dagger against his gloved finger. Nerundaen looked at his hands: the man was kneeling on his forearms. His palms were pressed against the dirt. His stupid target had actually thought about magic. He looked up at the forest canopy, willing no frustration to show on his face.
Casca deliberately shifted his weight, one knee to the other. "This must hurt."
"I've endured worse," Nerundaen said impassively, "but thank you for your concern, Caelus Casca."
"My friends just call me Casca," he said, leaning down to prop an elbow on Nerundaen's chest, plucking at his robes with the point of his dagger.
Nerundaen raised an eyebrow. "Are we friends?"
He shrugged. "Well, my enemies also call me Casca."
"Enemies such as rabbits and goats," Nerundaen said dryly. "I can only imagine the reputation you wield among prey animals. You wear your title well."
Casca cocked his head. "What title's that?"
"Dragonborn." He let the syllables roll out.
Casca laughed. His voice was piercing; the kind you could pick out from any crowd. "You," he patted Nerundaen's cheek, "have been misinformed."
"I see that now." Nerundaen tried his wrists, but they were pinned as firmly as ever. "I shall inform the Thalmor that you're no one of interest."
"What, too good to die at the hands of a remorseless goat-killer?" He said this lightly, as if it were only a joke, but he had resumed tapping his dagger against Nerundaen's robes.
"A bit."
That was when the flap of huge wings interrupted them, and Nerundaen looked directly into the eyes of a dragon that swooped down over the trees.
Thalmor Than Bargained For 2/??
(Anonymous) 2013-02-25 02:29 am (UTC)(link)He could throw a ward above his head and run, and maybe the dragon would lose sight of him. Then again, maybe it wouldn't, and he'd be drained of magic.
His heart was hammering in his chest, but he felt certainty instead of fear, and as he dashed toward the field, that certainty grew. He had a plan. He was a good mage, a strong mage. Perhaps he would die: if so, he wasn't the mer he thought himself to be, and he'd deserve it.
The dragon, circling above, screamed when it saw him. Nerundaen planted his feet, repeating a mantra in his head: ward left; lightning right. Magic crackled in both his hands. The dragon opened its mouth, and he flung up his ward. His lightning spell struck the beast in its great scaled chest, and it seemed to falter, but flew overhead.
The sound of a drawn blade surprised him, and he glanced back at the trees: Casca stood there, cloaked in shadow, apparently waiting - probably to see which one was left after the fight. Coward, thought Nerundaen, readying his spells.
His ward held back the plume of fire and the lightning spell hit its mark, but this time the dragon dropped out of the sky, flapping its great wings, and landed so heavily that the ground shook under Nerundaen's feet.
This, of course, was the weakness in the plan: he carried no weapons and wore no armor (not that he supposed armor would do much). The dragon opened its mouth, and Nerundaen stepped back, bringing up his ward--
And a dark flash shot out of the forest from the dragon's flank, and Nerundaen suddenly understood.
The dragon didn't see Casca until his dagger was inches from its eye, and the other one was sinking into the soft junction of jaw and throat. In its dying throes it snapped its head back, as if it could fling the offending thing off its neck, but Casca kicked himself backwards, rolling in a somewhat undignified heap in the grass by Nerundaen's feet. Nerundaen was transfixed: the dragon seemed to burn up before his eyes, impossible and terrifying and beautiful. A stillness came over the forest when it had gone, though his heartbeat was still a drum in his ears.
Casca, he saw, was looking at the dragon's bones as if he knew something no one else ever could; as if he'd been wrapped in a shell of wisdom. The impression faded as he watched.
"Did you--"
"Shut up," Casca cut him off, stalking toward the bones. "I'm sick of hearing about it." He picked up his daggers, examining each one.
His back was turned; plans were swirling in Nerundaen's head: he could paralyze him now, take one of his own daggers, and slit his throat. Those weren't his specific orders, but he would get out of this alive, and back to the Thalmor, as if nothing had happened.
As if the Dragonborn had never existed.
"Don't be an idiot," he said, "that would be a waste."
Casca smirked at him, turning back towards the forest. "A waste of what, your company?"
"A waste of power. I brought down that dragon for you."
"And I gallantly didn't leave you there to die. I surprise myself, sometimes."
"I think we both know he'd have killed you if I you'd been alone."
"You're giving yourself a lot of credit."
"I give myself the credit I'm due," Nerundaen said. "And you as well, Dragonborn." The clink of gold made Casca stop in his tracks and turn. Nerundaen dangled the coin pouch from two fingers. He had judged correctly: if nothing else, the Dragonborn had a price. "Coin and diamonds," he explained, "given to me in the even that I should need a horse."
Casca approached him, one eyebrow raised. "Consider it a gesture of goodwill," added Nerundaen, as the bag was plucked from his fingers.
"Do the Thalmor pay well?"
"They compensate well, which is different."
Thalmor Than Bargained For 2/?? FIXED WHOOPS proofreading is important kids
(Anonymous) 2013-02-25 02:33 am (UTC)(link)He could throw a ward above his head and run, and maybe the dragon would lose sight of him. Then again, maybe it wouldn't, and he'd be drained of magic.
His heart was hammering in his chest, but he felt certainty instead of fear, and as he dashed toward the field, that certainty grew. He had a plan. He was a good mage, a strong mage. Perhaps he would die: if so, he wasn't the mer he thought himself to be, and he'd deserve it.
The dragon, circling above, screamed when it saw him. Nerundaen planted his feet, repeating a mantra in his head: ward left; lightning right. Magic crackled in both his hands. The dragon opened its mouth, and he flung up his ward. His lightning spell struck the beast in its great scaled chest, and it seemed to falter, but flew overhead.
The sound of a drawn blade surprised him, and he glanced back at the trees: Casca stood there, cloaked in shadow, apparently waiting - probably to see which one was left after the fight. Coward, thought Nerundaen, readying his spells.
His ward held back the plume of fire and the lightning spell hit its mark, but this time the dragon dropped out of the sky, flapping its great wings, and landed so heavily that the ground shook under Nerundaen's feet.
This, of course, was the weakness in the plan: he carried no weapons and wore no armor (not that he supposed armor would do much). The dragon opened its mouth, and Nerundaen stepped back, bringing up his ward--
And a dark flash shot out of the forest from the dragon's flank, and Nerundaen suddenly understood.
The dragon didn't see Casca until his dagger was inches from its eye, and the other one was sinking into the soft junction of jaw and throat. In its dying throes it snapped its head back, as if it could fling the offending thing off its neck, but Casca kicked himself backwards, rolling in a somewhat undignified heap in the grass by Nerundaen's feet. Nerundaen was transfixed: the dragon seemed to burn up before his eyes, impossible and terrifying and beautiful. A stillness came over the forest when it had gone, though his heartbeat was still a drum in his ears.
Casca, he saw, was looking at the dragon's bones as if he knew something no one else ever could; as if he'd been wrapped in a shell of wisdom. The impression faded as he watched.
"Did you--"
"Shut up," Casca cut him off, stalking toward the bones. "I'm sick of hearing about it. Do you want to die now, or later?" He picked up his daggers, examining each one.
His back was turned; plans were swirling in Nerundaen's head: he could paralyze him now, take one of his own daggers, and slit his throat. Those weren't his specific orders, but he would get out of this alive, and back to the Thalmor, as if nothing had happened.
As if the Dragonborn had never existed.
"Don't be an idiot," he said, "that would be a waste."
Casca smirked at him, turning back towards the forest. "I beg your pardon?"
"A waste of power. I brought down that dragon for you."
"And I gallantly didn't leave you there to die. I surprise myself, sometimes."
"I think we both know he'd have killed you if I you'd been alone."
"You're giving yourself a lot of credit."
"I give myself the credit I'm due," Nerundaen said. "And you as well, Dragonborn." The clink of gold made Casca stop in his tracks and turn. Nerundaen dangled the coin pouch from two fingers. He had judged correctly: if nothing else, the Dragonborn had a price. "Coin and diamonds," he explained, "given to me in the even that I should need a horse."
Casca approached him, one eyebrow raised. "Consider it a gesture of goodwill," added Nerundaen, as the bag was plucked from his fingers.
"Do the Thalmor pay well?"
"They compensate well, which is different."
Re: Thalmor Than Bargained For 2/?? FIXED WHOOPS proofreading is important kids
(Anonymous) 2013-02-25 09:13 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Thalmor Than Bargained For 2/?? FIXED WHOOPS proofreading is important kids
(Anonymous) 2013-02-26 03:15 am (UTC)(link)Re: Thalmor Than Bargained For 2/?? FIXED WHOOPS proofreading is important kids
(Anonymous) 2013-04-21 04:12 pm (UTC)(link)Keep writing please!
Re: Thalmor Than Bargained For 1/?? (OP!)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-25 02:32 am (UTC)(link)