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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?"

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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.

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"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."

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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.

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"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.

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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."

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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.

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One of the Stormcloaks went down and Sworddog shook his head before joining in the fight herself. 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!"

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"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."

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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."

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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.

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"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.

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"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."

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"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."

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