Icerunner Aftermath
Another story suggested by someone, though with a slightly altered premise. The original idea was a telling of a mission from Skyrim where bandits have run a ship aground and you kill the lot of them (because Skyrim). I thought, what if instead it's someone coming across the aftermath of that mission?
Mostly death and necro here, with some cooking vore. No fighting or direct violence, but romance for the dead.
Icerunner Aftermath
By XP Author
Da'khar tentatively approached the shipping vessel. The khajiit had heard horrible things coming from his direction shortly before, including the booming shouts of one of those bloody dragons. Most people would be fleeing in the opposite direction as fast as they could run, but Da'khar knew better. People were expected to run away, and people who were running were prey. Da'khar did not like to be prey. He also knew that if there was a fight, there would be bodies. Bodies meant loot.
The ship looked to have run aground in the morning fog. The hull had been torn open by the rocky shore, spilling crates into the icy water. Though it looked like someone had beaten him to those particular crates. He wasn't surprised. He was about to move closer when he saw movement on the deck. He shifted to the side and crouched, hiding behind a large rock. He pulled his dark blue robes tighter around him and keeping his hood up to hide his spiky brown hair. His clothing and his grey fur worked well to keep him hidden in this part of Skyrim. He prefered to stay hidden.
He watched as a nord walked down the ramp of the ship, a massive two-handed sword on his back. The pale skinned man was dressed in a mishmash of armors, an iron helmet with horns covered most of his head, though the blond beard was still proudly prominent, even with ice stuck in the hair. His well muscled upper body was almost completely bare, save for some banded leather straps crossing his chest and fur gauntlets on his wrists. His lower half was covered in more furs, with what looked like imperial armor for boots. Quite the clashing fashion, and leaving quite a lot of him exposed to the biting wind, though the nord barely seemed to notice, even with the ice clinging to his clothing and beard.
Da'khar wondered if this man was that fool nord he'd heard about recently. The one that could shout like those blasted dragons did, blessed with some gods given gift. By all accounts, he was a violent fellow, even by nord standards. He'd heard that this man had single-handedly taken out many a bandit camp, leaving nothing but broken bodies in his wake. Da'khar very much did not want to be the next one of these and so kept his distance and watched. The dim light of the moons above was actually better for the feline to see. The nord opened his map and stared at it for several minutes, glancing up and around every so often. His gaze passed near Da'khar's position, and for one bone chilling moment, the feline had thought he was going to be the nord's new pelt. But it seemed he wasn't seen. That, or the man didn't care about his existence. Either suited the khajiit just fine.
Finally, the man closed his map and moved on at a light jog. Da'khar watched him go off to the north west, in the general direction of the city of Solitude, though that would be a several day journey on foot from here, despite that it could be seen in the distance. The massive city was high on the cliffs, and the path there was a winding one that required one to travel far west before heading east to the city once high enough. All of it under the control of the Empire.
Da'khar waited several more minutes to make sure the nord didn't double back for some reason. Finally, he emerged from his hiding spot and slowly made his way toward the large, wooden ship again. He saw the name on the side, Icerunner. It was a pretty standard cargo ship design, made more for carrying goods than speed or defense. As he drew closer to the ramp, Da'khar saw a pair of bodies, one dressed in lined leathers, the other in what looked like legionnaire armor. Once Da'khar got closer, he saw he was right, though it did nothing to keep the young soldier within it safe from the warhammer that had crushed the chest plate and his ribs. The one in the leathers was an orc, and judging by their dirty appearance, he was a bandit. Killed by a sword through the chest, likely by the dead imperial beside him.
Da'khar searched both bodies, only to frown and grunt in disgust. Their dirty and broken armor was the only thing left on them. Not even their weapons. He shook his head in disappointment as he made his way up the ramp to the deck. Another few bodies, three of them sailors by their outfits, and one more in imperial armor. The sailors all had arrows in their chests, their warm weather clothing not giving much protection against arrows. The guard looked like he had just been unlucky, or one of the bandits was a very good shot. An arrow had pierced through his eye socket. Likely an instantaneous death, at least. A quick patting down confirmed that these bodies had been just as looted as the others.
A gust of icy wind swept across the deck, the frigid air biting through even the khajiiet's warm clothes and fur. He shivered, pulling the thick cloth tighter around him. It was made all the worse by the icy water nearby, making the air sting and bite worse than some creatures that roamed about. He had no idea how the nord earlier could stand to be out in such weather with so little covering him, but then most nords Da'khar had met were crazy. He cast his eyes about and saw the doorway to the inside of the ship. It would at least offer some protection from the wind, and perhaps he could start a small fire, provided the damage inside wasn't so bad he'd worry about accidentally burning the ship.
The wooden door that lead inside looked to have been kicked open, the latch ripped from its mooring almost completely. He put a hand on the door and gave it a push, thankful it opened easily enough. The scene inside was not what he had expected. A half dozen bodies lay bloody and broken against one wall, crumpled and mangled. A table was upturned and broken bottles of mead and ale had smashed against the same wall. It looked as if someone had momentarily shifted gravity to focus on the wall before righting it, and all the people and objects had been flung at extreme force. He wondered if this was the doing of that nord earlier and his dragon yelling, or whatever it was they called it.
Da'khar searched the pile carefully, not wanting to cut himself on the broken glass from the bottles. The bodies were still warm, so this was very recent, but they were all also very dead. A pair of dark elves, another orc, and two nords were in this pile, mostly male, but the orc was female. Probably pretty for her people, considering orcs loved those covered in scars. He found a few iron daggers, an iron sword, and a few dozen septims. He was just pocketing the coins when he found something else, a little book, bound in leather and soaked with ale. He shook it off a little before opening it. The leather binding had mostly prevented damage from the spilled alcohol.
Da'khar read with only mild interest. It was a personal journal of one of the dark elves, complaining about working with more nords than they liked. He found reference to another dark elf, likely the one broken beside him here. Seems the two men were lovers. Da'khar looked up and made a polite nod to the two dead men. "Be with Mara, Da'khar guesses." Mara was the goddess of love and happiness... at least as far as Da'khar could remember. He wasn't exactly devout to the typical gods most followed. He turned back to the book and just started paging through to see if there was anything of interest to him. Seemed he was part of the Blackblood Marauders. Da'khar had only heard of them in passing. Bandits that operated outside of Solitude. The group was run by a pair of argonian siblings, brother and sister. He had not met many of the reptilians in his travels.
He shrugged as he didn't find any more of value in the book and tossed it to the side. He made his way into the inside of the ship, finding stairs that led below decks and to what was the crew quarters. Right beside the bottom of the stairs was obviously the captains quarters. One of the few rooms that had a door, but also a large bed with animal furs covering it, though some books were also strewn across the mattress. Nothing of interest to Da'khar, just story books or guide books to different ports. The desk to the side had every drawer pulled open and emptied. Other than the bed, there wasn't much of interest in the room.
Around the corner, however, Da'khar found the galley. He smiled wide as he stepped inside, his gaze casting about the room. "Da'khar has found some luck today after all!" The shelves still had some dried breads and salted meats, as well as bottles of ale, mead, and rum. The only thing that might taint the experience for some would be the body of the headless bandit slumped over on the table, blood still dripping form their stump of a neck. It was a wood elf by the look of it. The man's head had rolled into the corner near the stove, a look of shock frozen on the dead man's face. Da'khar prodded the body gently, nodding. "Eh, not too bad." Elf meat was a little stringy, but not nearly as tough as orc.
Da'khar wondered if he should set up a shrine to one of his two patron deities, namely Namira, the daedric prince of darkness and decay, the patron of cannibals, like Da'khar. The khajiit considered himself blessed by Namira, having granted her taste to him. He had a greater appreciation for the flesh of fellow mortals, and felt he gained more than just sustenance from the consumption. But she did not curse her followers with an insatiable hunger or thirst like many other daedric princes did. Da'khar's other patron, Sanguine, the daedric prince of debauchery, tended to be a little more pushy, but still not to the point of ruling one's life. No, Da'khar chose when he would indulge in his desires, not letting himself be ruled by them like so many others.
He started a small fire in the oven to see if it would burn, and to his delight, it did. He left it at a low warmth, more to chase away the chill of the room than anything else for now. He didn't want to leave it blazing hot as he searched the rest of the ship, though he didn't expect to find much. The crew quarters were ransacked, beds upturned, shelves stripped, footlockers broken open and emptied. A few books were cast about, but most didn't interest the feline. He moved on further down the way to the stairs that would lead to the cargo hold. A cold chill crept up the stairway, and Da'khar wasn't surprised to find it flooded. He'd seen the hole in the hull from the outside, so he had suspected this would be the case.
He was about to leave when something caught his eye at the very bottom of the stairs. He hadn't noticed it at first, even with his improved dark vision. Dark green scales covering a distinctly feminine form, crumpled into a heap on the wooden deck just above where the water had stopped filling the hold. The large pool of blood she lay face down in made it very clear she was as dead as everyone else in this ship, save Da'khar himself.
He made his way down the stairs and stepped over the collapsed argonian, careful not to step in the frigid water nearby. He knelt down beside her, his eyes taking in her form. This must be Deeja, one of the two argonians that apparently led this band of bandits. He reached out and ran his fingers gently along her scaled arm, feeling the texture under his touch. It was the first time Da'khar had ever found an argonian like this. There was a neat hole in the back of her leather armor where a sword had pierced through her back. By the look of how much blood was under her and not on her back, the wound must have been from the front with a very large blade. The big sword the nord earlier had worn would fit the bill.
He gently gripped her shoulder and hip and rolled the dead woman over onto her back. "Sanguine also blesses Da'khar on this day!" The sword that had pierced the woman had also split her leather vest open, leaving her blood-covered breasts exposed, along with her well toned belly. His eyes drew down that belly, small scales covering toned muscles, but still showing the distinct shape of her abs. He ran his hand along that belly, finding it surprisingly soft under his touch. His fingers ran along the ridges, up between her breasts, which he ignored for now, to the neat hole between them where a sword had rammed straight through her. It was a well aimed blow, cutting through her heart, killing her in a single strike.
His touch moved up along her neck, also softer than he'd have thought it would be, and brushing her jaw gently. Her face held an expression he'd seen in so many dead. A disbelief that their life was over, almost a desperate plea that this not be their last moment and fear for what would claim them. It was always these sorts of tough bandits that had that pleading look, like they couldn't believe they were suffering the fate they'd inflicted on so many others. Yet here she lay, her heart sliced open, her blood covering the deck of a ship, with a feline staring lustfully down into those fear-filled eyes.
He would have her, this gift Sanguine had given him. But not here, not in the cold, wet place. He slid one arm under her legs, another under her shoulder and carefully lifted her in the same way he might lift a lover. He rested her head against his shoulder, and smiled as he carried her up the stairs slowly and carefully. Her thick tail bumped against his leg as he rose step by step. His leg, and the stiffening shaft hidden within his robes. "Patience, my dear. Da'khar will show you the love you never got in life."
He carried his lovely companion to the captain's quarters, as it was one of of the few rooms that still had the bed intact. He brushed some of the clutter off of the mattress and gently lay the limp argonian down on her back. He shifted her arms, laying them at her side. He retrieved the pillow from nearby and set it under her head. He smiled as he looked down at her. Her green scales stood out against the browns and tans of the animal skins under her. "You are lovely, dear Deeja. Da'khar especially loves your lovely eyes." He couldn't help but gaze into those eyes, glassy but still locked in the look of dread and regret from her last moment of life.
The feline stepped out of the room to look about some of the others. He retrieved several lanterns from the rooms. Two he left unlit in the kitchen, and three more he brought with him into the room with his lovely lady. He let each lantern, setting them on different tables or surfaces around the room, places he was sure they wouldn't be knocked over easily, especially since the boat wasn't rocking about from the waves like it normally would have.
He finally sat down on the bed to give the argonian his full attention. He brought his left hand up to gently stroke his furred fingers against her scaled muzzle. He ran his touch up along her cheek, and found a dampness that was likely from tears she'd shed when the sword had pierced her heart. "Oh, there is no need for this. Da'khar is here now." He comforted her, as if it would somehow put her at ease. He was not so crazy as to think she was able to respond, or even hear him, he just respected those he spent his time with, be they living or, more often than not, dead. Then again, he had seen and heard enough crazy tales to not put past the possibility that the fallen's spirit might gain some comfort from him. If Namira had anything to say about it, they would know their body was treated well after they were done with it.
Da'khar ran his touch up to the bony horns sticking out along near the reptile's temples. Three on each side, about two inches long each, with rounded tips, more for show than combat or defense. Still, he ran fingers along and between them, feeling how different she felt to a khajiit or man or elf. His right hand slid down her face, under her chin to feel her throat, gently caressing under her chin and down to her collar bone. He slid his touch around her breast, delaying that prize further, and instead running his touch against her belly. He was still so surprised at how soft this was. He pushed against her toned abs, feeling her belly push inwards just that little bit. She had no belly button to speak of, owing to argonians being hatched and not birthed. Or maybe due to their close relation to the holy trees from their home land. Da'khar could only guess, and didn't bother, instead focusing on the pliant, scale-covered belly under his fingers. He pushed in and slid fingers up and down, feeling how it shifted under him, knowing the organs hidden inside there were waiting for him to release them. But not now.
Now, finally unable to resist any longer, he brought his touch to her chest. Hands rested on her ample breasts and he let out a long, low purr of approval. "Such softness in a rogue. Yet Da'khar can guess few ever got to feel this part of you." He used his foot to gently bump her leg to the side, then knelt between her legs. "Or other parts, as well." He leaned down, brushing his face gently against her soft belly, giving the cool scales a lick. He ran his rough tongue up along her abdomen, between her breasts, and up to her neck. She tasted of salt from the sea, yet a little sweet, not quite honey, more like sap but not as tacky. His tongue couldn't taste it, but his nose picked up the scents she had given off as she died, that fear and pain, regret and sorrow. They added to her unique sent in ways he loved.
Of course, he was also lapping up her blood, which still covered much of her chest thanks to the wound sitting between her breasts. The scent of her ended life filled his nose, his mind, his very being. He could hold back no longer. He sat up and worked to free himself of his clothing. A had a little struggle with a fasten at his shoulder, and getting his tail momentarily tangled in the mass of cloth, but soon the robes were up and tossed to the side. His dark grey fur was fully exposed to the cool air, along with his now throbbing shaft. His breath was short and panting, but he reached down to hold one of her hands to try and calm himself. "There is no need to rush..."
He smiled, taking her cool hand in his own and lifting it. "Here. Have a feel. It is only fair." He rested her long, cold hand against his shaft and let out another purring groan. He pushed her fingers to hold around his cock, and used her hand to rub up and down the length. He pushed his hips a little forward as he used her hand to rub himself. "You have wonderful hands. Not as soft as your belly, though." While he used her hand to stroke his cock, he reached down to open the leather wrappings draped about her legs. More armor than skirt, it still hung as loose as a skirt might. Once opened, he stared down at the revealed sex.
He'd never seen an argonian's pussy before. He figured it would be quite different from what he was used to, seeing as how argonians laid eggs. Plus with their close connection with trees, he didn't know what to expect. He found that she had what most would have, that lovely slit between her legs, but her lips were far less pronounced than a khajiit's would be. Or any other he'd seen, more a clean parting between her legs. He gently reached down and ran his fingers along that slit and couldn't help but let out a low moan. "Da'khar should have sought out argonians long ago." Her cool tunnel felt tight around his fingers, more so than he would have expected, and yet at the same time stretchier. A firm but pliant hold to lay eggs from. He wished to see it some day, though knew that was next to impossible. Argonians egg laying was some sacred process they did only in private. It meant he would never get to taste an argonian egg, either.
He'd settle for the next best thing. He could not hold back from her any longer. He shifted himself down against her, running his long shaft against her slit, teasing against her. "Da'khar wonders how many have ever felt inside here. Not many, yes? Da'khar is honored to be your last." He reached down to take hold of his shaft at the base and aim himself properly at her entrance. He pushed forward and let out a loud groan of pleasure. Her cold tunnel enveloped him in its tightness. He pushed in slowly but didn't stop until all seven inches were buried within her dead pussy. She was tighter around him than some anal he experienced in the past. It was wonderful.
He thrust into her slow but firm, watching her breasts jiggle about. They wiggled and bounced like jelly with every thrust into her. He reached to take hold of reach, giving them much firmer squeezes than before. He leaned down and kissed her neck, giving little nibbles to the soft scales at her throat. Her jaw bounced against his forehead every time he thrust into her, making her head shift and jostle about with the rest of her. He ran his kisses higher, along her jaw and eventually to her mouth. He pressed his muzzle to her own, giving her as deep a kiss as he could. Her tongue was flat and tasted of her blood. She was sweet. The taste had him purring, and thrusting harder.
Each time his hips hit hers, her whole body jerked and shifted under him. He reached down to hold her shoulders, still pressing his lips tight to hers. His thrusting grew harder, and he tried to push deeper into her every time. He let out a growl into her mouth, hips hitting her harder and harder as his pace grew faster. Her taste was driving him onward, wanting to taste more of her. His claws gripped into her shoulders, digging into flesh through her scales. His cock was twitching within her, throbbing. He was already growing so close.
He pulled back from her lips and tensed himself to stop moving. It took a great effort to halt so close to his edge. "Not yet... too fast. Da'khar wants to enjoy you more." He reached his arms under her middle and held her close. He dragged her with him and rolled over, now under her, with her body atop his. His cock had slipped out of her as he moved over, now throbbing in the cool air. He shifted so his head was on the pillow, and brought hers closer to rest against his shoulder. He draped her limp legs on either side of him, and ran a hand down her thick, limp tail, shifting it to the side as well. "Let us try like this."
He gripped her toned ass and shifted her hips. His cock aimed straight up at her, and he brought her slit down along him, once more engulfed into her cold tightness. He growled at the feeling, a deep rumbling purr vibrating his chest. He started to thrust upwards into her again, his hips bumping hers up and letting gravity bring her back down again. He kept one hand on her ass to keep her hips bouncing against his, and brought his other up to her head, shifting how it lay against him so he could give her more deep kisses.
He held her like this, one hand on her ass to help her bounce on his hips, one arm around her back, her mouth against his, her breasts pressed firm against his chest, her soft belly against his own. His fingers traced the hole in her back, gently feeling the torn scales and flesh that led further into her chest cavity from behind. He pulled back from the kiss, and leaned down, giving her neck gentle kisses and nibbles again. She tasted so sweet on his lips. Her scales felt so different than what he'd ever had before. He wanted more of her, wanted to taste her more. His nibbles turned to little bites, his sharp teeth poking into her soft flesh.
As he nibbled at her neck, his cock was starting to throb again, and just bouncing her like this wasn't enough. He brought his hand back down to grip at her hips with both hands once more and started to thrust up into her harder and harder. His claws dug into her rump, first for grip, then digging much deeper into her, slicing into her flesh. There wasn't much blood left in her at this point, but what was in the area leaked out around his claws slowly. The room filled with her scent, her blood, his arousal. His nose filled with her essence, up against her soft throat.
He was thrusting harder into her, slamming her hips down against him as he rammed his cock deep into her cold cunt. He wasn't holding back now, his shaft witching and pulsing inside of her, a heated rod in a cool tunnel, but her coldness only drove him on instead of cooled him off. He growled again, and needed to taste her. His mouth opened wide and he sank teeth deep into her throat, tearing into her soft flesh and spilling more of her blood, now directly into his mouth. The taste of her sweet meaty essence set him off. He clenched at her throat in a grip that would have suffocated her if she were alive. His cock twitched and jerked and finally exploded up into her pussy, shooting jet after jet of his seed deep into her.
He held her like this, pumping more of his cum into the dead argonian than he had known he had to give, while letting her torn throat ooze what little blood could drain into his mouth. He gave several thrusts up into her as his orgasm faded, dumping the last of his jizz into her. He reached up and held her shoulder, extracting his teeth from her throat carefully. His instincts wanted him to tear that throat open, and he almost did, but he had other plans for the lovely woman.
He leaned up and kissed her lips again. "Thank you, dear Deeja. Da'khar enjoyed your body." He sighed contented, and just held her against him for a time, resting to regain his energy. His stomach rumbled at him, however, and he knew he needed to eat. Plus he didn't want to let the abundant meat around him go to waste. He slid out of her, his cum drooling out of her pussy and onto the furs on the bed, his deflating cock still dripping a little seed as well. He once more picked up and carried his prize, this time to the galley around the corner. He set her on the table beside the headless elf, then started to go about getting things ready.
The oven was kicked on to full heat, letting it warm itself, the fire warming the galley considerably. He was going to have the elf for his dinner, but he'd found a more enticing meal in the reptilian, so he hefted the headless body up and tossed him into one of the other crew quarters so he was out of the way. His head was also tossed into the room unceremoniously. Returning to Deeja, he laid her out on her back and ran fingers along her belly. "Mmm... soon." He looked around and found a set of sharp knives and a cleaver. Whoever the cook on this boat was, he knew his cooking utensils.
The cleaver was quite sharp, and one strong chop was all it took to completely remove the argonian's thick tail at the base, the meaty appendage thumping to the floor. He set it aside on a chair. He used the knife to start cutting around the scales and flesh at her arms before using the cleaver to smash through the bone, removing both arms just below the shoulder. Her legs were much more time consuming, as the meat was thick and he wanted as much as he could get. Thigh meat was a favorite, but soon the cleaver crunched through bone again and her legs were removed and set aside with the rest. Without her limbs, she was much lighter to move around, and so he was able to position her much easier on the table. He carefully aimed the cleaver, raised it up, and brought it down hard on her neck. There was a crunch from her bone, but her head rolled to the side, separate from her body. He gently lifted it and set it down on a chair beside him.
Now he ran his hands down her soft belly. He'd wanted to cut this open since he first felt how soft it was. He picked up the knife and slid it slowly into her belly, moaning as it cut through that soft flesh. A long slit was opened from her hips up to between her breasts, joining the hole already there. A few cuts to the side and he pealed her open like a book, exposing her internal organs. He spent time removing each, her intestines discarded to the side, along with stomach and most of her digestive tract. Her kidneys and liver he kept. He wished hear heart was more intact, but he took what he could of it. Soon, she was hollowed out entirely. Not nearly as messy as it could have been, since the vast majority of her blood was already drained.
He started to carve her meat into sizes that would fit into the oven. He stripped most of her torso of usable meat, such as her breasts, her ribs, abs, back, and rump. Her legs were paired down to size, her hands removed from her arms. He then slid the choice cuts into the oven to cook. Then he just had to wait.
He'd grown hard again during his efforts, and he reached over to take her head from where he'd left it resting. He aimed her neck hole up with his cock and pushed into it, moaning loud. His cock head slid into her throat from the bottom, his head poking out of her mouth. He started to pump her head up and down his shaft, moaning as he used her to masturbate himself. With her sharp teeth, he definitely wouldn't want to go the other way around for this.
He looked at the torso that remained on the table, stripped almost entirely of meat, leaving exposed bone and bloody tendons. He stood up and grabbed her jaw and the top of her head, thrusting himself into her throat and mouth hard as he stared at her remains. The scent of her meat cooking drove him on fast, and it didn't take long for him to let out a howl of pleasure. His cock again exploded into her, only now into her mouth, and back out. Jets of his cum splashed into her chest cavity. Jizz drooled down her chin and dripped onto the floor. He purred happily.
He came three more times before the meat was done cooking. Once more into her mouth, once using the mostly still intact neck stump of her body, and once more jerking off onto her face while it rested against what was her crotch. Spent and having worked up a large hunger now, he carefully retrieved the platter of cooked argonian meat from the galley oven. It wasn't the best oven he'd ever had to work with, but since he was usually stuck having to use a campfire or eat things raw, he wasn't going to complain for this creature comfort.
He plated his meal and sat down in a chair beside the woman's cum-covered corpse. He picked a piece of the thigh meat first and blew on it to cool it just a little, then took a bite. The taste was exquisite. Sweet like a honey glazed ham, but as juicy as hoarker meat. He'd half expected her to be tough, but it was just the right amount of chewy. He closed his eyes and savored every bite. "Namira blesses Da'khar. May she bless you, too, Deeja. You will sustain Da'khar for a while yet."
Some day he would rest in the loving bosom of Namira, his body food for others, his spirit hers to consume and let consume for all time. Though there was the possibility Sanguine might try to claim him, bringing him to a fate of debauchery and hedonism, doing and being done to. Either fate was acceptable to the khajiit. The struggles between these moments of bliss made them so much better, and he truly felt the blessings of his patrons. He'd dry the meat later, so it would keep longer for his eventual consumption, so he could continue to praise Namira in his way, and appreciate the argonian's gift.
All in all, following the sound of that crazy nord's shouting had worked out for Da'khar. Perhaps he should try and follow in the path of this Dragonborn again, see what he finds in the man's aftermath in the future. But for now... he decided to go back for a second helping.
* * *