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Author's note: This post has only a couple images, the inspiration for this "story" by the irrepressible FurNut and another random one. I wrote it before I had the necessary mods installed (and edited) for the rest. But trust me, there's plenty in the other posts to follow! I'll follow the same format as in Tails of the Khajiit. However, Tumblr has once again changed the URLs for the full size images, which pretty much rendered all my work at revising the old Tails posts to click-thru to the high res images broken. Well, it's their bandwidth so I guess I can't complain too much.

Anyway, this is essentially a playthrough of Skyrim with Slutcat's attitude. Definitely a more comedic tone than Tails. I don't expect any crossovers but who knows what the future may bring? Oh, it's also lewd. SURPRISE! I'm up to 5 posts now, so it's time to start posting to Sofurry!"

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!"

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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.

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