Meme Announcements!

[skyrimkinkmeme]

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

Comments

Songs for Nomads 7.5

[(Anonymous)]

And Thorald erupts over the top of the snowbank, roaring a challenge that makes even the frozen air quail: the Battle Cry, Kyne’s gift to her northern children, birthright of the first men.

The Thalmor break and run; Freyja springs upright with Eitri on her heels, screaming a more ordinary war cry of her own. Unwilling to squander their precious advantage, she gives chase to one of the fleeing soldiers, catching him at the treeline. He finds just enough courage to turn and parry her sword stroke before Freyja’s well-placed shield blow breaks his neck. When Eitri and Thorald sprint by her, though, she calls them back – “No! On me – stick together!”

They gather in a loose circle on the high ground, back to back, keeping the downed tree between themselves and the slope. “Get rid of the mages,” Freyja mutters rapidly. “Just close fast and hit’em hard – don’t let them stay at range, they’ll control the fight if you do. I’ll take one—”

She cuts off with a gasp as lightning rebounds from a stone, making her convulse before leaping to Eitri and Thorald. The Thalmor charge back up the hill, moonstone glinting under the starlight, and Freyja has just enough time to ready herself before they close. A mace smashes down with enough force to shudder through her like the lightning; if she were less skilled, or even less prepared, the blow would have broken her shield arm. She hears Thorald yell, sees a spray of flames from the corner of her eye, but the vicious onslaught commands her attention – Freyja backs away, dancing on the balls of her feet, trying to lead the mer into stepping past her with the momentum of his heavy weapon. It’s Eitri who drops him, axe cleaving his neck from behind before he’s forced to turn away and meet another of the soldiers. Freyja turns to go to Thorald’s aid – he’s facing all he can handle, a tall robed woman with a flame atronach and summoned blades – when a blaze of green light clips her elbow. It’s just the barest of glancing contacts over her armor, but her entire arm goes numb.

Freyja nearly drops her sword. She dives for cover, trying to spot the other wizard, gut clenching like a fist. Indros could cast paralysis, but not without draining his reserves of magicka nearly dry. Only a master mage casually tosses such spells in a battle. They’re facing at least one – and he wants to take them alive. Frantically, Freyja casts around until she sees him, hanging back near the treeline, readying a blast of fire in both hands. With her shield up, with a prayer that calls on Talos but is aimed at any gods who might be listening, Freyja charges.

When he sees her coming the wizard encircles himself with a spray of lightning that crackles along the ground as though the snow itself has burst into flame, casting the clearing in an eerie purple glow. Freyja leaps the obstacle – the lightning seems to rise and snap at her boots, like a nest of writhing snakes – and hacks at the mage’s legs, trying to throw him off balance. He’s wearing naught but robes, but her blade slides off as though his flesh is made of stone. She’s no choice but to set a brutal tempo, pressing him hard and fast enough that he cannot use the slower, more powerful weapons in his arsenal, absorbing the punishment of his shock spells with gritted teeth. The sparks jump along the length of her sword, and she thanks the gods that her armor isn’t steel.