Skyrim Zako short stories (1 Viewer)
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Embershard Mine Bounty
Crossbow and elven dagger in hand, the Mercenary has cleared the first cave of the Embershard mine and the corridor in perfect silence. Now he was at the entrance of the second cave.
He has an order to eliminate everyone living in this cave, since their business was producing weapons for bandits and rebels. Every man and woman in the smuggling gang should die; he only needed to confirm the identity of their leader Sintra Coloviana and take her corpse to the nearest imperial army post. Intel said Sintra was a young woman with short dark hair and pale skin.
He heard someone was working at the forge below, hammering metal on the cave bottom. He casted a Detect Life spell, and saw three glowing figures: one was at the forge, another near the cave top, and one on the floor nearest to him, sleeping in a fur sleeping bag.
He crept next to the sleeping bag and saw the long brown hair and tanned naked back of its owner. When the blacksmith’s hammer struck, he pressed onto the sleeper’s beck and drove his dagger into their back.
”Hush”. The Mercenary used a Calm spell in case they would scream, but the only trouble was his dagger getting stuck. The sleeper died with a light cough and a sigh, almost no motion.
He left his knife there, without trying to remove it or checking the identity of his victim. The skin color was too dark, hair was too long, and they could be a man.
He loaded his crossbow and creeped to the wooden handrail above the forge. The blacksmith was a young Nord woman, wearing only a skirt and a tube top, both made of fur. Her muscular body was glistening with sweat, and her blond hair has stuck to her neck.
After her hammer hit the piece of metal once again, the Mercenary pulled the trigger. The arrow instantly penetrated the side of her skull, sending her to the ground. He loaded another arrow and watched her for a few seconds more, but she did not even twitch.
The only other living person left here, the life sign he saw at the cave top, must be Sintra. He moved to a corner in front of the cave’s central skybridge and waited. When she noticed the hammering have stopped for too long, she will come to investigate.
Soon, Sintra came down from the cave top and walked onto the bridge, looking left and right carefully. She wore a white shirt and a pair of black pants, dressed like an ordinary miner. Her face was smooth and delicate, and her buxom bosom indicated a life of luxury. She has a crossbow on her back, the Mercenary saw, the bounty order didn’t say the weapon smugglers have them. She could have sold more crossbows to the bandits.
He waited until she was facing him straight to release his arrow; it hit her squarely between her breasts.
Sintra was knocked into the air, jumped up backwards involuntarily; when she fell back onto the bridge, she comically slid down its slope all the way to the Mercenary’s position.
He left his hiding spot and walked to her side. She was still alive but fading away, a patch of red spreading from the arrow stuck in her torso, hands grabbing at the dirt in pain, legs kicking in panic. One of her shoe was already kicked off. Sintra looked at him with hate and fear, begging him for help but she could not speak.
The Mercenary still needed to confirm her identity. He casted a Heal spell on her, just for a second, and asked: “Sintra Coloviana?”
Her eyes widened at hearing this, trying to turn around and get away with the little strength given by the heal spell.
He casted a Calm spell and asked again: “Are you Sintra Coloviana?”
“...Yes.” She stopped struggling, tears pouring out as she understood her fate.
The Mercenary knelt down in front of her and put his left hand on her shoulder, then, he held the arrow with his right hand, gave it a slight twist, and pushed it all the way in, piercing her heart.
With a weak gurgle in her throat, Sintra’s eyes rolled back and fluttered, her head dropped back limply.
Crossbow and elven dagger in hand, the Mercenary has cleared the first cave of the Embershard mine and the corridor in perfect silence. Now he was at the entrance of the second cave.
He has an order to eliminate everyone living in this cave, since their business was producing weapons for bandits and rebels. Every man and woman in the smuggling gang should die; he only needed to confirm the identity of their leader Sintra Coloviana and take her corpse to the nearest imperial army post. Intel said Sintra was a young woman with short dark hair and pale skin.
He heard someone was working at the forge below, hammering metal on the cave bottom. He casted a Detect Life spell, and saw three glowing figures: one was at the forge, another near the cave top, and one on the floor nearest to him, sleeping in a fur sleeping bag.
He crept next to the sleeping bag and saw the long brown hair and tanned naked back of its owner. When the blacksmith’s hammer struck, he pressed onto the sleeper’s beck and drove his dagger into their back.
”Hush”. The Mercenary used a Calm spell in case they would scream, but the only trouble was his dagger getting stuck. The sleeper died with a light cough and a sigh, almost no motion.
He left his knife there, without trying to remove it or checking the identity of his victim. The skin color was too dark, hair was too long, and they could be a man.
He loaded his crossbow and creeped to the wooden handrail above the forge. The blacksmith was a young Nord woman, wearing only a skirt and a tube top, both made of fur. Her muscular body was glistening with sweat, and her blond hair has stuck to her neck.
After her hammer hit the piece of metal once again, the Mercenary pulled the trigger. The arrow instantly penetrated the side of her skull, sending her to the ground. He loaded another arrow and watched her for a few seconds more, but she did not even twitch.
The only other living person left here, the life sign he saw at the cave top, must be Sintra. He moved to a corner in front of the cave’s central skybridge and waited. When she noticed the hammering have stopped for too long, she will come to investigate.
Soon, Sintra came down from the cave top and walked onto the bridge, looking left and right carefully. She wore a white shirt and a pair of black pants, dressed like an ordinary miner. Her face was smooth and delicate, and her buxom bosom indicated a life of luxury. She has a crossbow on her back, the Mercenary saw, the bounty order didn’t say the weapon smugglers have them. She could have sold more crossbows to the bandits.
He waited until she was facing him straight to release his arrow; it hit her squarely between her breasts.
Sintra was knocked into the air, jumped up backwards involuntarily; when she fell back onto the bridge, she comically slid down its slope all the way to the Mercenary’s position.
He left his hiding spot and walked to her side. She was still alive but fading away, a patch of red spreading from the arrow stuck in her torso, hands grabbing at the dirt in pain, legs kicking in panic. One of her shoe was already kicked off. Sintra looked at him with hate and fear, begging him for help but she could not speak.
The Mercenary still needed to confirm her identity. He casted a Heal spell on her, just for a second, and asked: “Sintra Coloviana?”
Her eyes widened at hearing this, trying to turn around and get away with the little strength given by the heal spell.
He casted a Calm spell and asked again: “Are you Sintra Coloviana?”
“...Yes.” She stopped struggling, tears pouring out as she understood her fate.
The Mercenary knelt down in front of her and put his left hand on her shoulder, then, he held the arrow with his right hand, gave it a slight twist, and pushed it all the way in, piercing her heart.
With a weak gurgle in her throat, Sintra’s eyes rolled back and fluttered, her head dropped back limply.
Embershard Mine Bounty 2 (bodyplay)
The Mercenary dragged Sintra’s still-warm body by her arms to the cave’s sleeping quarter. He still needed his elven dagger back from the sleeper’s corpse.
He took off his gloves and knelt down beside them; the softness of their skin felt very comfortable, but beneath was a bony ribcage that trapped the dagger. Carefully, he pressed around it to loosen its thin blade. The bounty could buy him a better one, but he would like to refine it until he could build and enchant a new dagger himself.
He found the right angle to pull and moved his knee onto the corpse’s buttocks to give a downward force; with a yank, the dagger slipped loose, the motion also flipped the dead sleeper‘s upper body back.
He saw a feminine face, without any signs of pain and death, only a small streak of blood and drool on their chin. The Mercenary was now curious, was his victim a woman? He moved off the corpse and opened the sleeping bag. The bare chest of the sleeper was now exposed, it doesn’t look as impressive as Sintra’s but there are two soft hemispheres.
They still wore a fur skirt below; he pulled it open and saw an answer he took great joy to see. The sleeper was indeed a young woman, and the fingers of her left hand were still tucked into her moist womanhood.
Laughing, he covered her female secret with the sleeping bag cover and went the forge.
There, he found a few complete crossbows and many components. He tossed them all into the coal fire and used a Flame spell to make it burn hotter. The crossbows would be worth a fortune, but he doesn’t want the imperial army to turn on him or to face crossbows in bandit hands one day.
The imperial army could be interested in the blacksmith’s identity, so he should take her corpse to the outpost too. The Mercenary thought, and tried to pick up the body. However, there was too much sweat and he couldn’t find a grip.
He moved the muscular blond woman into a sitting position on the floor, then cut her fur tube top off. Her fur skirt has already slid to her knees, and there wasn’t anything beneath. He grabbed some rags and began wiping her dry, from head to toe. It was easier said than done; the sweat on her all poured to her well-toned abs, and there was a mess between her legs as well. It felt like giving her a massage in foreplay, but she wouldn’t give him any compliments now.
As punishment, he gave her firm breasts and ass a few extra squeezes after he was done. Then, he carried her over his shoulder and brought her back to the other two dead girls.
There were many locked crates and boxes in the mine. Being the leader, Sintra must have carried the keys with her. The Mercenary patted around her pants’ waist, to find only an arrow pouch; her pockets were sewn on the inside.
He lifted the front of her pants, and cut it open with his dagger. A trimmed bush, a pair of damp silk panties and ivory-white thighs welcomed him. Encouraged, he stripped the pair of pants open even more, until the secret pockets were easily reached.
As he moved the dead woman around, he heard something jingling from her upper body, near his arrow. Sintra’s bleeding was stopped by the Heal spell he used to interrogate her, so her shirt was not stuck firm to her skin by blood. He sat behind her and propped her up, then pulled out the arrow from her chest.
Sintra’s bloodstained white shirt came off without resistance as he pulled it off over her head. He turned her around, kissed her on her lips and laid her back down. He saw a small pouch of coins and other valuables on a leather string by her neck, between her bare breasts. Also, it was stained by more than blood; Sintra‘s well-endowed body has lactated in her final struggle.
Now, it was time to find a way to bring her and the blacksmith to the bounty collector. The Mercenary would disguise them as cargo, the imperial army wouldn’t pay for extra transport costs because smugglers don’t deserve coffins.
He’ll pour some healing potion over the dead girls’ wounds, wrap them in rags for basic decency, then load them into boxes labeled as potions when he’s outside.
The Mercenary dragged Sintra’s still-warm body by her arms to the cave’s sleeping quarter. He still needed his elven dagger back from the sleeper’s corpse.
He took off his gloves and knelt down beside them; the softness of their skin felt very comfortable, but beneath was a bony ribcage that trapped the dagger. Carefully, he pressed around it to loosen its thin blade. The bounty could buy him a better one, but he would like to refine it until he could build and enchant a new dagger himself.
He found the right angle to pull and moved his knee onto the corpse’s buttocks to give a downward force; with a yank, the dagger slipped loose, the motion also flipped the dead sleeper‘s upper body back.
He saw a feminine face, without any signs of pain and death, only a small streak of blood and drool on their chin. The Mercenary was now curious, was his victim a woman? He moved off the corpse and opened the sleeping bag. The bare chest of the sleeper was now exposed, it doesn’t look as impressive as Sintra’s but there are two soft hemispheres.
They still wore a fur skirt below; he pulled it open and saw an answer he took great joy to see. The sleeper was indeed a young woman, and the fingers of her left hand were still tucked into her moist womanhood.
Laughing, he covered her female secret with the sleeping bag cover and went the forge.
There, he found a few complete crossbows and many components. He tossed them all into the coal fire and used a Flame spell to make it burn hotter. The crossbows would be worth a fortune, but he doesn’t want the imperial army to turn on him or to face crossbows in bandit hands one day.
The imperial army could be interested in the blacksmith’s identity, so he should take her corpse to the outpost too. The Mercenary thought, and tried to pick up the body. However, there was too much sweat and he couldn’t find a grip.
He moved the muscular blond woman into a sitting position on the floor, then cut her fur tube top off. Her fur skirt has already slid to her knees, and there wasn’t anything beneath. He grabbed some rags and began wiping her dry, from head to toe. It was easier said than done; the sweat on her all poured to her well-toned abs, and there was a mess between her legs as well. It felt like giving her a massage in foreplay, but she wouldn’t give him any compliments now.
As punishment, he gave her firm breasts and ass a few extra squeezes after he was done. Then, he carried her over his shoulder and brought her back to the other two dead girls.
There were many locked crates and boxes in the mine. Being the leader, Sintra must have carried the keys with her. The Mercenary patted around her pants’ waist, to find only an arrow pouch; her pockets were sewn on the inside.
He lifted the front of her pants, and cut it open with his dagger. A trimmed bush, a pair of damp silk panties and ivory-white thighs welcomed him. Encouraged, he stripped the pair of pants open even more, until the secret pockets were easily reached.
As he moved the dead woman around, he heard something jingling from her upper body, near his arrow. Sintra’s bleeding was stopped by the Heal spell he used to interrogate her, so her shirt was not stuck firm to her skin by blood. He sat behind her and propped her up, then pulled out the arrow from her chest.
Sintra’s bloodstained white shirt came off without resistance as he pulled it off over her head. He turned her around, kissed her on her lips and laid her back down. He saw a small pouch of coins and other valuables on a leather string by her neck, between her bare breasts. Also, it was stained by more than blood; Sintra‘s well-endowed body has lactated in her final struggle.
Now, it was time to find a way to bring her and the blacksmith to the bounty collector. The Mercenary would disguise them as cargo, the imperial army wouldn’t pay for extra transport costs because smugglers don’t deserve coffins.
He’ll pour some healing potion over the dead girls’ wounds, wrap them in rags for basic decency, then load them into boxes labeled as potions when he’s outside.
There will be!
What do you want to see? I’m open to suggestions.
As you were mentioning your own play through, I was wondering if you have taken the cidhna mine quest line or fought your way through any redoubts.
Their close association with Witches and Hagravens offers lots of fodder, and the ability to pick pocket a Briarheart's heart out for an instant kill could make interesting raw material for fiction.
Also, in the game, if you've never stolen a Briarheart's heart, I strongly suggest it. Aztec Surprise is a very efficient way to deal with them.
Had fun fighting in Forsworn bases, though they’re usually too big to write about in whole. Will pick some memorable scenes and spice them up.
I’ve tried the female briarheart mod before, it’s fun pickpocketing the hearts!
Found a dead sexy curvy forsworn drawing:
The Mercenary was deeply aroused when he looked at Sintra again, after collecting all her belongings. She was almost entirely nude, only her pant legs and one shoe was still on her pale body. The arrow wound between her large, full breasts was tiny, and her pained face has been calmed down in her final moments by his spell. The beautiful corpse was too inviting.
He knelt down and threw off her remaining shoe, then stripped the torn pants off. His personal morality code was not against sex with an enemy he just killed, besides, a common criminal like her would have offered herself to him for a chance to strike back at him. He has never killed anyone who does not deserve it, that was all that mattered.
He cut out a piece of cloth from Sintra’s shirt and reached between her legs, then underneath her, to wipe her wet bottom clean. Next, he moved her above an empty sleeping bag. He dropped his pants and knelt down over her, entering her womanhood. Slowly he pushed forward, going deeper, to avoid hurting himself; this way would have made Sintra more comfortable too if she was alive. He was too cautious, though, because she was still very warm and moist inside.
Encouraged, the Mercenary leaned over all the way down, his arms around hers. He started pulling and thrusting, driven faster and faster by his excitement at the mission’s success, and the prospect of the bounty. Assassinating Sintra was a reward by itself, it was simple joy he needed to seize before it vanishes.
Sintra’s nipples were brushing on his chest. He paused his thrusting and moved his attention to her bosom; it takes both his hands to fully grasp one of her breasts, and they were balanced well between elastic and firm. Her chest was a treasure, but she wore nothing between them and the coarse shirt. This combined with her panicked struggle hardened her nipples prominently, adding even more sensation to his touch.
Since she chose to become an outlaw, she should have seen that she would pay the price and expose her dead body one day.
”Pardon me, young lady.” The Mercenary smiled, pulled back, and kissed her left nipple as an apology. He resumed his thrusting, completely resting on top of Sintra, his arms over her shoulders.
As he felt the climax was approaching, he planted his lips on her face, sucking on hers uncontrollably. When his embrace became the tightest, he released inside her.
The experience was too good to pull out, but he remembered there were two more bandit girls just next to them, both pleasant looking in their own way.
Slowly, he sat up like he was still trying to avoid hurting Sintra. She still deserved this much respect. He gently pushed the dead smuggler off the sleeping bag and pulled the blacksmith woman’s corpse over.
There were some bottles of mead on a short table next to them. He took one, drank half, then poured the rest into the muscular blonde’s womanhood.
This time he sat down by a wall and placed her on his lap facing him, his member pushing into her with a light “pop”. She was already cooling, but tighter than Sintra, her muscles bouncy.
He felt around her breasts leisurely, savoring the touch. She has died too fast, without feeling any hint, so her body was not aroused in panic like Sintra’s. They felt good, though, and the tube top she wore had given them a good perky shape.
Gripping onto her firm abs, he moved her up and down slowly, pausing to play with her breasts time to time. Her expression was frozen in wide-eyed, open-mouthed confusion as she died, her brain shot through by his arrow.
He kissed her and sped up his movement. She was heavy for being so slim, because of her muscles. After a few more thrusts, he turned her around, then flipped together with her into a face down position, thrusting into her from behind. The blacksmith’s muscular back and tight bottom were an enjoyable sight, and her strong thighs were good to hold onto. She was sturdier than all the village girls he fucked in the past, a good reward for the wiping he did on her.
With a long sigh, he slapped her butt cheeks and released inside her. Resting on top of her for a while, he pulled out and pushed her away, next to Sintra. It was time for the dessert, the girl he killed in her sleep.
The Mercenary wiped himself on the fur sleeping bag and cracked open another bottle of mead to drink.
He pulled the sleeper girl out of her own sleeping bag and laid her on top, removed her fur skirt then tossed it on Sintra’s bare waist. He gave the sleeper’s young, androgynous face a kiss, to announce his entry.
The girl’s left hand was still tucked into her womanhood when she died; he gently pulled it out and cupped both her hands beneath her small breasts. He raised her legs onto his shoulders and kissed her delicate toes. Afterwards, he knelt down, and penetrated into her well lubricated vagina.
She was not a virgin, none of the girls were. The male bandits of this hideout have been lucky to have fucked with them, maybe the girls have tried each other too, but he was the luckiest one now.
The body was hot inside. Her small frame let him go through the entire length of her womanhood in one thrust, so he played with her slow and steady.
It was almost romantic looking at her peaceful sleepy face, gently embracing her, he was tired and wanted to give her a loving experience to pacify her soul. He pulled out, massaged her breasts and stomach, then slowly lowered her legs back down to the ground.
He let the dead girl lie on her side, and loosely held her across her chest, her long hair spread under their heads.
He entered her from the rear, feeling refreshed by the tightness, alternating between the two holes. After he finally released, he gently put her back onto the sleeping bag, and kissed her good night.
The next morning, in the Falkreath town graveyard, the corpse of the black haired girl was placed at the entrance, covered by a tunic. A small bag of gold was tied to her neck, with a note saying two more corpses will arrive later from the Imperial army camp.
He knelt down and threw off her remaining shoe, then stripped the torn pants off. His personal morality code was not against sex with an enemy he just killed, besides, a common criminal like her would have offered herself to him for a chance to strike back at him. He has never killed anyone who does not deserve it, that was all that mattered.
He cut out a piece of cloth from Sintra’s shirt and reached between her legs, then underneath her, to wipe her wet bottom clean. Next, he moved her above an empty sleeping bag. He dropped his pants and knelt down over her, entering her womanhood. Slowly he pushed forward, going deeper, to avoid hurting himself; this way would have made Sintra more comfortable too if she was alive. He was too cautious, though, because she was still very warm and moist inside.
Encouraged, the Mercenary leaned over all the way down, his arms around hers. He started pulling and thrusting, driven faster and faster by his excitement at the mission’s success, and the prospect of the bounty. Assassinating Sintra was a reward by itself, it was simple joy he needed to seize before it vanishes.
Sintra’s nipples were brushing on his chest. He paused his thrusting and moved his attention to her bosom; it takes both his hands to fully grasp one of her breasts, and they were balanced well between elastic and firm. Her chest was a treasure, but she wore nothing between them and the coarse shirt. This combined with her panicked struggle hardened her nipples prominently, adding even more sensation to his touch.
Since she chose to become an outlaw, she should have seen that she would pay the price and expose her dead body one day.
”Pardon me, young lady.” The Mercenary smiled, pulled back, and kissed her left nipple as an apology. He resumed his thrusting, completely resting on top of Sintra, his arms over her shoulders.
As he felt the climax was approaching, he planted his lips on her face, sucking on hers uncontrollably. When his embrace became the tightest, he released inside her.
The experience was too good to pull out, but he remembered there were two more bandit girls just next to them, both pleasant looking in their own way.
Slowly, he sat up like he was still trying to avoid hurting Sintra. She still deserved this much respect. He gently pushed the dead smuggler off the sleeping bag and pulled the blacksmith woman’s corpse over.
There were some bottles of mead on a short table next to them. He took one, drank half, then poured the rest into the muscular blonde’s womanhood.
This time he sat down by a wall and placed her on his lap facing him, his member pushing into her with a light “pop”. She was already cooling, but tighter than Sintra, her muscles bouncy.
He felt around her breasts leisurely, savoring the touch. She has died too fast, without feeling any hint, so her body was not aroused in panic like Sintra’s. They felt good, though, and the tube top she wore had given them a good perky shape.
Gripping onto her firm abs, he moved her up and down slowly, pausing to play with her breasts time to time. Her expression was frozen in wide-eyed, open-mouthed confusion as she died, her brain shot through by his arrow.
He kissed her and sped up his movement. She was heavy for being so slim, because of her muscles. After a few more thrusts, he turned her around, then flipped together with her into a face down position, thrusting into her from behind. The blacksmith’s muscular back and tight bottom were an enjoyable sight, and her strong thighs were good to hold onto. She was sturdier than all the village girls he fucked in the past, a good reward for the wiping he did on her.
With a long sigh, he slapped her butt cheeks and released inside her. Resting on top of her for a while, he pulled out and pushed her away, next to Sintra. It was time for the dessert, the girl he killed in her sleep.
The Mercenary wiped himself on the fur sleeping bag and cracked open another bottle of mead to drink.
He pulled the sleeper girl out of her own sleeping bag and laid her on top, removed her fur skirt then tossed it on Sintra’s bare waist. He gave the sleeper’s young, androgynous face a kiss, to announce his entry.
The girl’s left hand was still tucked into her womanhood when she died; he gently pulled it out and cupped both her hands beneath her small breasts. He raised her legs onto his shoulders and kissed her delicate toes. Afterwards, he knelt down, and penetrated into her well lubricated vagina.
She was not a virgin, none of the girls were. The male bandits of this hideout have been lucky to have fucked with them, maybe the girls have tried each other too, but he was the luckiest one now.
The body was hot inside. Her small frame let him go through the entire length of her womanhood in one thrust, so he played with her slow and steady.
It was almost romantic looking at her peaceful sleepy face, gently embracing her, he was tired and wanted to give her a loving experience to pacify her soul. He pulled out, massaged her breasts and stomach, then slowly lowered her legs back down to the ground.
He let the dead girl lie on her side, and loosely held her across her chest, her long hair spread under their heads.
He entered her from the rear, feeling refreshed by the tightness, alternating between the two holes. After he finally released, he gently put her back onto the sleeping bag, and kissed her good night.
The next morning, in the Falkreath town graveyard, the corpse of the black haired girl was placed at the entrance, covered by a tunic. A small bag of gold was tied to her neck, with a note saying two more corpses will arrive later from the Imperial army camp.
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