A Romantic Interlude

Author’s note: A lot of images with this one. Tumblr seems to stop displaying them after 10 if you’re reading the “post”. You can go here for the whole thing without having to click the image links past 10.

https://slutcatandsworddog.tumblr.com/post/166547686293/a-romantic-interlude

They crept past the bear without incident, though Slutcat did make a comment about how Sworddog wasn’t even sneaking yet they still passed without waking the beast.

“Well, maybe I’m just naturally quiet.” Sworddog protested.

“Sure you are. With all those swords on your back rattling around. Quiet as a mouse.”

Sworddog looked at his back. “Slutcat, there’s only one blade on my back and it’s an ebony dagger. In a sheath.”

“SHHHH! We don’t talk about that! It’s a bunch of bare swords and don’t forget it. Now let’s move on,” Slutcat said, stealing a glance at the audience and the heinously inept author-cum-modder who couldn’t make a proper Sworddog mod.

Ralof had gone on ahead as they passed a large, lit fire.

“Wait,” Slutcat stopped, looking at the fire. “Who lit that?”

“They must have some magical cave-gnomes that keep all torches lit and refueled. I guess,” Sworddog postulated, though Slutcat was unconvinced.

But Ralof was calling to them, “That looks like the way out! I knew we’d make it!”

They stepped out into a dark and starry night, but instantly the screech of a dragon far overhead had Ralof huddling behind a rock.

“Wait! There he goes. Looks like he’s gone for good this time. No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We’d better clear out of here. My sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I’m sure she’d help you out. It’s probably best if we split up. Good luck. I wouldn’t have made it without your help today. You know, you should go to Windhelm and join the fight for free Skyrim. You’ve seen the true face of the Empire here today. If anyone will know what the coming of the dragon means, it’s Ulfric.”

“Um… Ralof. There’s something I should tell you,” Slutcat said, continuing to walk beside the big Nord. “I’m not from around here. You might say I’m from another world, though technically that’s not accurate.”

Sworddog interrupted, “Slutcat! Are you sure you want to be telling this?”

Slutcat shook her head at her canine friend. “We’d be dead without Ralof’s help too Sworddog. But we still need his help.”

“What? What should I know?” Ralof asked, continuing to walk down the trail.

“It’s hard to explain, but we’re kinda from your future. I don’t know much of anything about this place,” Slutcat admitted.

“That does explain a lot. Like why you don’t talk like the other khajiits for one,” Ralof mused. “And you didn’t know about healing potions… Maybe you’d better stay with me till we reach Riverwood anyway.”

Slutcat agreed, “Thanks Ralof. I really wouldn’t know where to go anyway. Can I… um… Can I give you a hug?”

Ralof stopped and took the khajiit in his arms. “Of course you can. But nothing more! It’s late and it’s dangerous to be out in the wild at night.”

“Hey! Why don’t I get a hug?” Sworddog protested, but no one was listening. When the hug turned into a rather passionate kiss, she started barking. “Hey! That’s enough of THAT! You’re not alone here you know. I swear Slutcat if you start mating with this big lug I’ll piss on you both! STOP THAT!”

The two finally separated, Ralof looking embarrassed.

“Sorry Slutcat. I know you would like more from me. But I can’t.”

Slutcat started strolling down the path happily anyway. “Oh, no problem Ralof. No problem at all. Sometimes a girl just needs to know she still has ‘it’, you know? I was beginning to think something was wrong with me. Just consider that kiss as payment for services rendered. Now where’s this Riverwood place? A girl needs her beauty rest you know!”

“Nothing wrong with you, Slutcat,” Ralof assured her, catching up. “It’s still a way off though.”

They walked side by side down the trail with Sworddog following close behind as the moon dropped lower across the sky and morning birds began to call. Before long they came to three odd stone pillars.

Ralof stopped and ushered Slutcat up onto the platform where the stones stood. “These are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim’s landscape. Go ahead, see for yourself. If you touch them, they’re said to bestow a blessing according to your path in life. One for the mage, one for the warrior, and that one for the thief.”

Slutcat looked at the stones. “A blessing for a thief? You know, thievery isn’t exactly an approved life-path where I come from. Do they LIKE thieves here or something?”

“Oh no. If you’re caught stealing the authorities will assess a fine or throw you in prison.”

“Seems odd that someone would make a one of these for thieves then. Where’s the Murderer’s Stone?”

Ralof chuckled. “I don’t think there is one for Murderers or Assassins.”

Slutcat looked at her companion. “Think they’ll work on Sworddog?” she asked Ralof.

Ralof considered the question a moment then shrugged. “Maybe. She can talk, so I suppose so.”

“Thanks for noticing me, lover boy,” Sworddog said. She walked over directly to the Warrior Stone and touched it with her paw. Nothing happened.

“I thought there would be, like… sparks or something. Shouldn’t something happen?” Slutcat asked.

“Nothing you can see. They’re supposed to help in your chosen path, but who knows if they really do anything. Seems like a lot of effort to build them if they don’t do anything though, doesn’t it?” Ralof pointed out.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a lot of effort was put into something worthless. Looks like three giant dildos to me.” Slutcat said as she looked at the engraved images.

“Oh no. These are far too big for giant women. They prefer rounded off mammoth tusks.”

“No, I didn’t mean dildos for giants… Wait!!!” Slutcat turned to face Ralof with a shocked look.

“Well, they do!” he protested.

“Do you often watch giant women with their mammoth tusks?” Slutcat eyed Ralof with a lewd expression.

“You know… when you’re a kid you, sort of, get up to stuff. Curiosity stuff.” Ralof stammered but Slutcat had moved on to the mage stone.

“Here goes nothing!” she said and touched the stone. Nothing happened.

Ralof commented, “Mage, eh? Well, to each his own. It’s not for me to judge.”

“No, it’s not. Ralof, look at me. Does this look like the body of a Warrior to you? I can’t even lift an axe.”

“Point taken. Though there’s one called the Lover Stone around Markarth if you ever get out that way.”

“Oooo! Does it make you a better lover?”

Ralof shrugged. “Probably.”

“I can imagine what that one has carved on it!”

“It’s just an engraving of a woman. I checked.”

“Oh. What a missed opportunity,” Slutcat said as they returned to the path, though Sworddog noticed there was a lot more touching going on as they walked.

“It looks like the morning is coming and I’m getting awfully sleepy. Let’s find this Riverwood and get to bed.”

Sworddog growled.

“To sleep.” Slutcat amended.

Not the Time Nor the Place

“Well if you are quite done with your metaphorical afterglow, we’d better get going don’t you think?” Sworddog asked Slutcat, sounding a little perturbed.

“Oh, I suppose. Which way did they go?”

“Follow me,” Sworddog said impatiently and trotted off down the path that Ralof and the other Stormcloak had taken. They passed into another chamber with more bodies, but it was the cobwebs that bothered Slutcat.

“Ew… Spiders. I hate spiders,” she said, staring at a particularly large web in one corner.“

"That’s pretty much universal, I guess. Come on, Ralof will have knocked down any that cross the path.”

Soon they had caught up with the others and Slutcat readied her newly discovered talent, this time priming both hands with the Spark spell. Up ahead, they heard the clear sound of more Imperials.

And then the battle was on. Unlike before, Slutcat was a very active participant this time. Sworddog helped her take down one Imperial bowman, but not before she had been wounded by an arrow. She barely felt it, such was the adrenaline flowing as she rained sparks upon the doomed man and Sworddog worried him from behind.

Before she knew it, the Imperials had been defeated and Ralof and the other Stormcloak were heading out of the room. But Slutcat sat where she was for a minute. The healing potion had taken care of the pain in her leg, but she was looking at the dead man in front of her. Sworddog came up and sat near her.

“You know, he didn’t look like a bad man,” she said, not looking away from the lifeless corpse.

Sworddog said nothing for a while. Finally she spoke up. “He probably wasn’t. Just a soldier, doing his job. Just a man really.”

“What have we gotten ourselves into Sworddog?”

The dog didn’t answer, but Slutcat stood back up, took one last look at the body of a man whose bones would likely stay down here forever, then went on to join Ralof.

A bit further they crossed a drawbridge, but the straggling other Stormcloak was on the far side when another dragon-induced cave-in cut them off from him. Once again they were back to just Ralof, Slutcat and Sworddog. Without any choice, they continued on. But soon they found the only way out was down a rivulet running with water. Cold water.

Slutcat slipped on a stone and ended up in the water nearly to her knees.

“AAAAAAAAAA! THAT’S SOOOO COLD!” She screamed.

Sworddog’s voice came from behind her, “At least you’re mostly out of it! Hurry up! I’m up to my shoulders!”

She’d barely gotten any warmth back in her feet when they had to turn off the stream bed and go down a side passage. Then the passage widened into a room full of Slutcat’s deepest fears. Spiders the size of Sworddog and more were dropping from the ceiling. She fled in abject terror back the way they’d come. Once Ralof had dispensed with the spiders, he and Sworddog went back to find her huddled by the stream, her eyes wide and staring. She flinched at Ralof’s touch.

“I’m sorry… I… Don’t like spiders,” she shivered not from the cold as she tried to apologize.

“It’s understandable. Loathsome creatures. Some even spit venom. You are right to be afraid of them. But they’re dead now.”

She looked back at him. “All of them?”

“Yes Slutcat. All of them. Sworddog took down a few himself.”

Sworddog nodded. “Taste like crap. But yes Slutcat. They’re all dead.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, right Ralof. I mean… I REALLY REALLY REALLY don’t like spiders! It’s like a phobia or something.”

Ralof took her hand and hauled her to her feet. “They’re dead. Come on. I’ll hold your hand.”

Though nervous, Slutcat did make it through the room with the dead spiders and breathed a sigh of relief when it was safely behind them. However she didn’t get much time for respite when Ralof hushed them and crouched low.

He whispered, “Hold up. There’s a bear just ahead. See her? I’d rather not tangle with her right now. Let’s try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step. Or if you’re feeling lucky, you can take this bow. Might take her by surprise.”

Slutcat shook her head and pushed the bow away. “I’ve killed enough for today. Let’s just sneak past her.”

Ralof nodded, adding, “Go ahead. I’ll follow your lead and watch your back.”

Slutcat raised her eyebrows. “My back? Listen buddy, I don’t want to tangle with bears at ANY time. As slow and low as I’ll be sneaking, it won’t be my back you’ll be watching. Have a good look, but stay close. If she charges I’m going to be running like hell!”

Slutcat began crawling. At the beginning of this little romp she would have felt a little thrill at displaying her wares to him in such a manner. But after the roller-coaster she’d just been through, she was focused completely on the sleeping bear ahead. This went through her mind for a moment, and she realized that she would have said just what Ralof had said a long time ago. “This is not the time, nor the place for that!”

Who needs men?

Using the key he found on the Captain, Ralof was able to open a gate that led deeper into the keep, so Slutcat and Sworddog followed him. Suddenly a tremor shook the roof and it collapsed in front of them cutting off the main corridor.

“Look out! Damn, that dragon doesn’t give up easy,” Ralof said, surveying the collapsed passageway.

Slutcat saw a door to their left. “This way maybe?”

The three ran through the side door and soon came upon two Imperials in a sort of storeroom whereupon Ralof fell upon them with gusto.

Slutcat stopped and watched the battle in front of her, and was prodded by a cold nose to her butt.

“Go on! Get in there and fight Slutcat!” Sworddog said, nudging her forward.

“Er… I… I sort of see myself more in a support role here,” she stammered.

“Slutcat! Help Ralof!”

Slutcat turned back to Sworddog. “Perhaps I was a bit hasty when I chose to follow him. I mean, the Imperials aren’t all that bad are they? Really, what do we know about them? Maybe we shouldn’t get too involved.”

A scream and a gurgle came from behind her and she turned around to see the Imperials dead and Ralof badly injured.

“But then again, Ralof is our friend, right?” Slutcat said.

“Healing… potion…” Ralof managed to say, indicating a cupboard to the left.

“Healing potion, healing potion. Sworddog, do you know what a healing potion looks like? Oh, here’s some wine! I’ll take that!”

“Try the red one,” Sworddog suggested.

Slutcat shrugged and took the bottle over to Ralof who downed it in one big gulp.

Instantly he was literally as good as new. Slutcat looked back at the bottle, then back at Ralof. “Wow! That stuff really works!”

“Well, of course it does. It’s a healing potion. See if you can find some more.”

Slutcat was about to say, “Why don’t you? You’re not my boss. Why do I have to do the searching here? Is this some sexist or racist thing? Maybe you think we khajiits are just your servants, hmmm?” But then she looked at the two dead men on the floor and decided to hold off on her protests. Maybe, just this once, he’d earned the right to command her – just a little.

“Absolutely!” Slutcat said instead and started searching through the storeroom, pocketing anything she could find that might conceivably be a potion of some sort. Once done with the main storeroom, she climbed a ladder to look through some baskets and barrels up on a raised shelf there.

“Find anything?” Sworddog asked as she rummaged around.

“I sure did! These wicker baskets are AWESOME! These would be just the thing to store shoes and stuff by the door.”

“Slutcat – I think we’re supposed to be looking for potions and the like. Wicker baskets are not high on the list of needful things here.”

“Whoa! This one comes with a wicker lid! I’m taking it! Say, this inventory thing is great. Wish they had these back home.”

“Slutcat, come on. Ralof is waiting.”

The khajiit nabbed another bottle of wine before she and Sworddog again began to follow the big Nord. As they proceeded, the sounds of a battle were heard in front of them. Of course Ralof ran on ahead to join the fray. Slutcat and Sworddog followed and found themselves in a torture chamber where two Stormcloaks were already battling a couple more Imperials.

“Still think the Imperials are okay guys?” Sworddog asked Slutcat as she touched a skeleton manacled to the wall that crumbled at her touch.

“I guess not. But what can I do? I can’t even lift an axe. I’d just get in the way.”

“Well, you can handle this ebony dagger strapped to my back for one thing,” Sworddog pointed out.

One of the Stormcloaks went down and Sworddog shook his head before joining in the fight himself. Slutcat pulled a healing potion out of her inventory. “Maybe I can be a healer,” she thought. But in a moment Ralof, along with the other Stormcloak, had dispatched the two Imperial torturers. Slutcat handed a healing potion to Ralof and the other Stormcloak soldier. Both were healed instantly. She even gave some to Sworddog.

“Thanks, khajiit,” said the stranger. Then he really looked at Slutcat. “Whoa! You’re big… and… naked!”

“Just call me Nurse Slutcat. You know, that Ralof fellow hasn’t shown the slightest interest in me,” she said, switching to seductress mode. She leaped onto the Stormcloak. “If you need a little more healing,” she purred, “I specialize in physical therapy…”

The Stormcloak reflexively caught her as her legs locked around his waist. “Sorry khajiit…” he began.

“Slutcat.”

“Sorry Slutcat. I’m… I’m a married man.”

Slutcat licked his earlobe. “I won’t tell…”

“I’m not into fur!” his protests became more vehement.

“You could be!”

“Slutcat, please!” he said, gently but firmly extricating himself from around her. He sat her down gently but firmly. She sat heartbroken on the floor, her eyes grown big and pleading. “I could shave!”

Ralof interrupted and the other Stormcloak took the opportunity to move away, “Wait a second. Looks like there’s something in this cage. It’s locked. See if you can get it open with some picks.” He gestured to some little metal things nearby. “We might need that gold once we get out. Grab anything useful and let’s go.”

Slutcat’s ears suddenly pricked up. “Gold?” She ran to get the lock-picks.

“Wait,” she said, turning to look at Sworddog. “Why would they keep lock-picks here? I mean… Really?”

“Just roll with it.”

She nodded and scooped them up, heading to the cage. Within, the body of a man in a robe lay cold and dead, but beside it a book and the flash of gold was evident. She sat in front of the cage, lock-pick in hand, then looked forlornly at Sworddog. “Ever used a lock-pick before?”

Sworddog held up a paw.

“Oh. No. I guess not… Well, here goes nothing.”

The first lock-pick snapped off after only a few attempts. “I’m going to have to write a nasty letter to the ACME Lock-pick company. These things are defective.” But the second attempt was successful and she realized, “Hey, I could be a thief!” Then she crawled into the cage. The gold was snatched up in an instant, but she took the book out too. It felt odd in her claws.

“What’s this?” she said, sitting down outside the cage. “It doesn’t feel like a regular book.”

She opened it warily. Suddenly there was a flash and the book disappeared. Even Sworddog jumped back at that.

“A disappearing book? How does that work?” Slutcat said, scratching her head.

“Well according to the mass/energy equation all mass is just stored energy anyway. Although by my calculations a release of all the energy that comprised that book should have caused an explosion that would have incinerated everything within a three mile radius. Dragons excepted of course.”

“Your calculations suck. Again.”

Ralof looked back at the two. “It was a spell book. You should know some magic spell now. Give it a try if you want. Those robes the dead mage is wearing may be helpful too if you want to be a spell caster. But we need to get moving. Come along down the passage when you’re done.”

“Robes?” Slutcat said, looking down at her minimalist clothing. “Where we’re going, we don’t need robes.”

Sworddog groaned.

With that the two Stormcloaks left the torture chamber. But oddly Slutcat felt she knew what Ralof meant now. Something in her mind knew what to do now. She signaled for Sworddog to move back. She then closed her eyes and threw something out of her right hand. She opened her eyes at the crackling sound and saw sparks leaping from her outstretched hand and hitting the floor some distance away, sparking and arcing while the scent of ozone filled the air. Her eyes went wide with wonder.

“Slutcat?” Sworddog said after she’d closed her hand and sat staring on the floor at the spot she’d hit with her spell. “Are you all right?”

“Did. You. See. THAT?”

“Yes. Quite impressive! I guess you’re a mage here.”

Slutcat turned to the dog, her chest heaving as if she’d just run a marathon. “Total Lady Boner.” she stated flatly. “I need a cigarette.”

“Sorry Slutcat, I don’t think those exist in this…” Sworddog started.

“Don’t worry about it,” Slutcat said, lounging on a chair with a lit cigarette in one hand and a glass of fine wine in the other. “It’s totally metaphorical.”

Her breathing relaxed as her eyes closed. “I’m a mage.”

In keep-ing with Ralof (2)

Author’s note: If you’re just starting here, you missed one. Head to the archive at http://slutcatandsworddog.tumblr.com/archive and read the first one. Sorry, no pics on it though.

Slutcat stepped into the keep with Sworddog close behind. The stormcloak, Ralof, was bending over a body but stood when she entered.

“That thing was a dragon. No doubt. Just like the children’s stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times.”

Slutcat cocked her head to the side. “Do you think? What was it that gave it away? Probably that whole breathing fire thing, huh?”

Ralof ignored her and continued, “May as well take Gunjar’s gear… he won’t be needing it anymore. Alright, get that armor on and give that axe a few swings. I’m going to see if I can find some way out of here.”

Slutcat tried to put on the dead Stormcloak’s armor but was failing miserably while Sworddog sat watching her amused. “Maybe you can stick your tail out between the top and bottom?” he offered helpfully.

“Dammit, no that doesn’t work. It’s a one-piece. I’ll try and keep it tucked in,” she mused while Ralof looked around for a way out.

Slutcat finally got the outfit mostly on and looked at Sworddog, “What do you think?”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the armor fell off her shoulders and pooled into a big pile at her feet. The dog just shook it’s head. “Too big even with your boobs!”

Slutcat climbed out of the useless armor and knelt to pick up the axe. Though she did manage to get it off the ground, the head steadfastly refused to rise much higher than her ankles.

“Jeeze, this thing weighs a ton!”

“You’ve got no upper body strength Slutcat,” the dog stated as Slutcat turned to her with a mournful look.

“Maybe if I…” she said and started spinning around. The head of the axe did rise above the ground a bit further before she lost her grip and the weapon went clattering across the floor, nearly hitting Sworddog.

“HEY! WATCH IT!”

“SHHH!” Ralof spat, motioning them to the side of the door. “It’s the Imperials! Take cover!”

Slutcat and Sworddog squatted to one side while Ralof drew his own weapon on the other side. The woman who strode in was quite familiar in her Captain’s armor. She turned and saw Slutcat cowering while her companion met Ralof’s surprise assault. “YOU!” she cried, brandishing a mean looking sword.

Quickly, Slutcat finished doing something with Sworddog’s tail, then she rolled out of the way of the Captain’s swing, but the Imperial was a trained swords-woman and was upon her again in a second. The sword flashed again. It connected, unlikely as it may have been, with Slutcat’s vest which stopped the heavy blade as if stopping a toothpick.

The Captain stopped and looked closely at her sword, “What the hell?”

But Slutcat didn’t waste any time wondering what had happened and ran to the most distant point from her foe available, which happened to be just on the other side of the battling Ralof and the other Imperial. The Khajiit peered between the two as the Captain came forward, renewed hatred in her eyes. But Slutcat just maneuvered so the two fighting men stayed between her and the Captain. She could see the Captain was getting angry too. She stuck her tongue out. “NYAAA!”

The Captain’s face began to show red and she ran full speed towards the cat to the left of the others, but Slutcat was nothing if not swift. She moved deftly to put them back between her and the Captain, then turned around and slapped her own ass. “NYAAA NYAAA!”

Fury radiated from the captain like flame. In a rage she crashed full into the two men, sword drawn. Unfortunately for the Imperial soldier, the sword was on his side and sliced his neck cleanly as the Captain barreled through, no heed given to her fellow who was now on the ground and bleeding his last. For his part, Ralof was on the ground himself and gasping to get his breath back after the full speed collision with the armored Captain.

But Slutcat wasn’t watching all this. She was running as fast as she could around the perimeter of the circular room, her eyes now wide with fear. But a table blocked her path and the Captain advanced ruthlessly.

“Sworddog!” cried the Khajiit, now with nothing between her and death. The sword came barreling in, not with a slash that might be avoided but a direct thrust meant to skewer.

It hit Slutcat’s belt buckle and stuck there. Slutcat looked at the Captain in wonder. The Captain looked at Slutcat in disbelief, then back to the sword and pulled it away from the belt and struck again. Once again, it hit the belt buckle. “WHAT THE FUCK?” screamed the enraged Imperial, looking at her sword like it had betrayed her.

Meanwhile Slutcat had dropped to her knees. “Fetch the mouse Sworddog!” she cried incongruously then rolled away from the dog as fast as she could.

Sworddog had walked calmly up behind the Captain before her master’s command had come. Then she began looking for a mouse. She found it very nearby. But when she turned to try and fetch it, it scampered away. But not far. So she turned some more. And it scampered some more. Then she took after it in earnest, while the fake mouse tied to her tail flew ever out of her reach. The dog was spinning now at full speed, snapping at the never-quite-near-enough toy.

And then Slutcat kicked the Captain over. The odds of one of Sworddog’s swords actually managing to wound the fully armored Imperial were slim to none. But in his mad whirling dervish spin the odds were just slightly increased. The Captain fell awkwardly and as she hit the floor, a sword struck her point-first in the face. She had time to let out a gurgle before she was gone.

“NYAAA NYAAA NYAAAA” Slutcat taunted the dead Imperial one last time as Sworddog stopped spinning. Then she turned to the dog. “Here girl!”

Sworddog panted up to her, glancing back every so often at the mouse that refused to be fetched. She was pleased when Slutcat removed its string from her tail and gave it to her directly. The taste of rubber was disappointing, but expected.

Ralof was standing, looking perplexed. “Why in hell are you not dead?”

“Inverse proportionality rule,” Sworddog said between chews on the rubber toy.

“The WHAT?”

“Inverse proportionality rule. Of course you wouldn’t know about that. You’re male. Doesn’t work for me either. (chew chew). Gotta have boobs.”

“What is the inverse proportionality rule?” Ralof asked while looking at the dead Captain.

“The skimpier the armor, the greater the protection. It’s a universal rule in this age of Tamriel from what I can tell,” the dog concluded, then attacked the rubber mouse again.

Slutcat laughed. "And my armor is just about the skimpiest you can get!”

She kicked the steel breastplate of the Captain. “She apparently didn’t know the rule.”

Rajolf shook his head and bent to retrieve anything the Captain had in her inventory that might be of use. Sure enough there was a key. There was always a key.

“You want anything? That armor is valuable.”

Slutcat began to remove the armor from the dead Captain. “Oh my! Going commando in full plate armor? Sworddog, this lady may have been the bravest woman in Skyrim. She was truly a woman after my own heart. In different circumstances, Captain, we would have made great friends. A moment of silence for her…”

“You’re not going to wear her armor?” Ralof asked.

“Nope,” Slutcat said cheerily while getting to her feet. “I’m good! Besides, you wouldn’t want me to cage these puppies would you?” She wiggled her breasts at him for emphasis.

Rajolf shook his head. “This is not the time, nor the place for that! Let’s get out of here before more come! What’s your name anyway?”

“The name is Cat. Slut Cat.”

Slutcat and Sworddog in Skyrim (1)

(Image by the irrepressible FurNut!)

The wagon rumbled along down the rough forested woodlands, one of two in a convoy headed towards the city of Helgen. Inside were five passengers. One, the gagged and trussed figure of Ulfric – the once-powerful Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Stormcloak rebellion but now a prisoner of the Imperials like the rest. Across from him sat a pitiable figure dressed in rags and similarly bound at the wrists. Lokir – a thief doomed by fate to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Next to him sat the Jarl’s stalwart companion and Stormcloak loyalist Ralof, his massive arms tied uselessly.

And then there was Slutcat. Unlike the others, Slutcat was not tied in quite the same manner. The Imperial general who led the procession, General Tullius, had had her feet bound instead of her hands, declaring that it was more important to keep her legs together than her arms. She was dressed in her standard attire – vest, belt, and boots with nothing in between. Beside her sat her constant and loyal companion, Sworddog, both unbound and armed to the teeth with the bristling weapons that gave her the name. Why she was left to freely associate with the other prisoners with absolutely no regard for the swords that covered her, even the author couldn’t fathom.

“Well here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten us into,” grumbled the dog.

The Khajiit groaned yet again as the wagon staggered over another pothole, setting her aching breasts to bouncing.

“You know, they make bras for just such an occasion,” the dog pointed out, disregarding the display that seemed to fascinate the other prisoners – not to mention the Imperial driving the cart.

“Hey buddy, watch the road! I swear you’ve hit every bump you could possibly have hit without going completely off the trail!” she said, resuming her hold on her boobs.

The Imperial laughed, “Na. I missed one a couple miles back. Too bad, it would have been a DOOZY!”

Slutcat hissed, then turned back to Ralof. “So what’s his story?” she asked, indicating the gagged Jarl. “Told one too many Imperial jokes?”

“Watch your tongue!” Ralof chided her, “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

“A king huh?” Slutcat said, sliding up beside Ulfric. “Say! I’ve never met a king before. Hey, when we get out of this, wanna fool around?”

Ralof kicked her angrily in the shin. “That’s no way to speak to your king!”

“HEY! I’ll scratch your eyes out big boy! Besides,” she said, putting her arms around the supposed future High King, “He likes me!”

Ulfric’s eyes went wide as he shook his head in protest.

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste. Probably gay anyway. How about you, thief? I hear you thieves are supposed to be good with your fingers. Wanna pick my pocket?”

Sworddog coughed. “Ehem. Slutcat, if he was a good thief he sure wouldn’t be here.”

Slutcat sat back down, nodding. “Yeah, I guess that’s true…”

Another jolt set her femininity bouncing again as she scowled back at the driver who started laughing again.

“God DAMMIT man! If you can avoid hitting those damn holes for 5 minutes I’ll give you a better time than your old man gave me!”

“If you were going to live long enough to matter,” the Imperial said while turning back to the road, “I might just do that!”

Slutcat turned to Sworddog. “Live long enough? What did he mean by that?”

The dog shrugged, but Ralof looked at her with contempt.

As the walls of Helgen came into view, Slutcat did notice the bumps had indeed lightened up anyway. Finally the procession slowed to a stop. And then Slutcat witnessed the most amazing thing. The thief Lokir got himself killed trying to run away from the Imperials. But that wasn’t what amazed her. What was truly astounding was that the Stormcloaks, sworn enemies and at virtual war with the Imperials, didn’t even try to do anything. One by one they appeared to be ready to just bend over and have their heads cut off! Incredibly, the first even expressed impatience with the proceedings taking too long. It wasn’t long before his impatience succumbed to the supreme patience of death.

“You with one of the trade caravans, Khajiit? Your kind always seems to find trouble,” said some faceless mook of an Imperial.

“I guess you could say that,” said Slutcat as she hopped up to him, trying her best to be sexy while her feet were tied together. “I have different kinds of wares to sell though…” Her tail arched around to stroke his arm while she purred with her best slutty voice.

“Well, you’re not on the list… I guess…” he stammered.

Then some damned Imperial Captain interrupted, “Forget the list.”

Slutcat turned to hiss at her. “I hope that metal breastplace chafes the hell out of your boobs!”

“She goes to the block!”

“Fuck that!” she said and started hopping away.

“Archers!” the Imperial Captain commanded.

“Fuck that too!” said Slutcat as she dropped to her knees in compliance. She was hauled bodily to the chopping block, her feet not touching the ground.

“Wait… this isn’t what I meant when i said I’d give you head!” she cried as she was forced into position.

Suddenly a dragon appeared, the majestic and lethal form of myth screaming it’s fearsome cry while the Imperials scattered.

“Sworddog! Come!” Slutcat cried, rolling off the gory block.

She took a sword from the dog’s back and cut through her bound feet, but a shadow loomed over her.

“Hey, Khajiit! Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!” Ralof cried as he ushered her to a tower nearby. Inside other Stormcloaks along with Ulfric waited.

“Guess that impatient sucker who got his head cut off wishes that prayer was a few minutes longer now, eh?” Slutcat laughed once she was inside.

“Hey! That was my brother!”

“Oh… heh… Sorry,” Slutcat apologized.

Suddenly the tower was rocked by a tremendous force and the thundering Voice of a dragon was heard, just before the walls of the tower were breached and a powerful blast of fire roared into it from the dragon, leaving a smouldering hole some distance above the floor.

“See the inn on the other side? Jump through the roof and keep going! Go! We’ll follow you when we can!” Ralof screamed, pushing Slutcat to the smoking hole.

Slutcat looked at him in complete confusion. “Wait, you want to leave this tower? The one that dragon barely even damaged, and go outside? What kind of…”

But she wasn’t able to finish her thought as the muscular idiot hoisted her through the gap and pushed her onto the roof of the flaming building on the other side.

Sworddog leaped after her. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire, eh?” she laughed.

“More like out of the PERFECTLY SAFE STONE TOWER and into the fire,” Slutcat glared, running along the second floor and trying to guess where the dragon was. “What a moron!”

A few minutes later and she found herself standing with that Imperial official on one side and Ralof on the other, both asking her to join them on two separate paths.

“Well,” Sworddog said, imperturbable as ever. “Looks like this is decision time, eh Slutcat? Which will it be?”

Slutcat put out the flame on the tip of her tail and looked at the dog. “Oh, let’s see… Shall we follow the big muscular hunk with the pecs of steel, or follow the Imperial pencil-pusher who 15 minutes ago was going to cut my head off. Decisions, decisions…”

Sworddog considered this while the dragon circled overhead. “Then again, your muscular idiot did push you out of a perfectly safe stone tower out into a burning building.”

Slutcat had to nod at that. But then she looked again at the thick muscular legs and tight, rock hard buns of the Nord. “I CHOOSE DEATH BY IDIOT!” she cried and followed Ralof into the keep.

Sworddog sighed and followed her mistress. “Good a reason as any I suppose,” she had to admit.