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

Re: Fire and Potions - 43/?

[(Anonymous)]

“If you want Solitude to endure, choose Sybille. She’s the only one in the court who bothers to look at more than one side of an issue,” Therion gave the the Dunmer housecarl beside him a wry look. “And now I swear to do my utmost to stay awake. Apparently if I snore again, Irileth will not hesitate to send me on a more permanent venture to Sovngarde.”

There was a murmur of interest, while Erikur turned red in anger.

“This is mad! She’s a wizard! And not even a Nord!” he shouted.

The court wizards of Skyrim regarded Erikur with dangerous looks, as did all the non-Nord races, while the Dragonborn fixed him with his own cold expression.

“I am a mer. And a mage. Does that mean I don’t care about the future of Skyrim?”

Erikur raised his finger accusingly at Therion.

“You implicate me of treachery and now you twist my words! I’ve had enough!” he growled.

Therion started to wonder how far Erikur would take the insult to his pride, when to his surprise, Jarl Balgruuf leaned forward and stared the other man down.

“Choose your words carefully, Thane Erikur. I do not take threats made against my court lightly.”

Erikur, looking around the room, finally sensed the tide turning against him, and lowered his hand.

“Perhaps it’s time we put things to a vote,” Jarl Balgruuf suggested.

The vote passed with six in favor of Sybille and two in favor of Bryling.

As the moot finally adjourned for the evening, Therion slipped away, vanishing into the crowd.

Farengar, eager to leave the crowded room, departed the Blue Palace and emerged into the night air of Solitude. The jarls had lodgings in the Blue Palace, the guards in Castle Dour, while the rest of the various members of the courts had lodgings at the Winking Skeever. There was a moment as he left, that he thought he heard the sound of a tile shifting, coming from the roof of the Blue Palace, but he saw nothing as he looked up, and the sound vanished before he could locate its source. Shrugging it off, he slowly walked back to the inn with the rest of the departing crowd.

Farengar finally returned to the inn ahead of the rest of the delegates, but was surprised to see Therion seated in a back corner, sipping a drink and looking as though he had been there for some time. Giving him a bemused look, Farengar went to the bar to order a pint and dinner. The bard, a lovely Bosmer girl named Sina, finished the last notes of a jaunty tune and announced her next number; a personal variation on The Dragonborn Comes. Farengar glanced over to the titular character. The slow, soothing tune appeared to have a lulling effect, causing the Dragonborn to nod off as the bard plucked her lute, singing of his exploits in a voice sweet as honey.

“Our hero, our hero

Claims a warrior’s heart.”

Farengar watched as several Nords seemed to recognize the slumbering Dragonborn. The wizard frowned as they walked unsteadily over to him, surrounding the elf in the corner.

“Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin, naal ok zin los vahriin,

Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!”

Farengar walked over swiftly, telling himself it was merely to ensure the thane of Whiterun wasn’t robbed or disgraced. From the way they stumbled and snickered, there was no mistaking their drunkenness. Before he could intervene, one of them swayed forward, grabbing hold of the Dragonborn’s Akaviri dai-katana at his waist.

Farengar staggered as he heard, and felt, Therion’s frenzied, resounding shout. In a blur of movement, the patrons before him scattered, thrown back, along with a table, and several chairs. Farengar saw Therion press the Nord whom had grabbed his weapon into the wall by the neck, reaching for his sword with his free hand, seemingly unaware of what he was doing. Lunging forward, Farengar trapped Therion’s wrist, preventing him from drawing his sword, while wrenching him away from the choking Nord. The man dropped to the floor, coughing and gasping.