Hero's undoing...
You know you've played to much skyrim when joining the Bards college makes you write a saga of your characters fantasy undoing... I just woke up in the middle of the night and it came to me...
The tale of brave Sir Cameron
and the jewel thief
Sit ye back lords and lass's for the rollicking tale of Brave Sir Cameron, a fearless knight in the old Dominion. A green skin Orsirmer, one of the sons of Malacath. A tough and brutal race and the only one that does not have a homeland of their own. A powerful, nomadic folk who love their axes as much as their families. They are some of the best heavily armored warriors, but also have a willpower all of their own. They are fearsome when using their Berserker rage, but fearsome much more in their Berserker lusts.
Sir Cameron traveled the wild and dangerous lands of Skyrim, brigands and bandits fell to his axe. Thane to the Jarls of all of the holds, he slew giants and dragons alike. Delved deep into dungeons and ancient tombs, seeking treasures and weapons. And never a thrall of his was lost, Companions he had and howled at the moon with.
And no enemy he found could stand before him, be they Dwemer constructions or Thalmor wizards. His terrible axe made off with their heads, Trolls and Ice Wraiths trembled in fearful dreams of his coming. Draugr fled their tombs, and vampires ran for the light rather that face the blunt of his might. And with each adventure his legend did grow, until that night his quest ended in Riften.
Tracked down the jewel thief to his suite high in the bee and barb, the mighty Orc warrior kicked open the door. With a Ebony axe in his dragon bone gauntlets, the murders Orc stomped into the room. Upon the bed the slinky thief lay, a hundred candles flickering around him. Golden light shining off sleek striped fur, the sly Khajiit lay reclining. Sir Cameron stood panting his terrible weapon at ready, waiting the attack that surely work come. But the Tiger lay languid and smiling, no sword or dagger to be seen. No spell came flying no staff to behold, the thief moved slowly. Up onto his knee's stripping off his radiant raiment dropping his breeches, he knelt on the bed.
Lifting his tail, while winking one eye in lewd invitation to the green skinned brute. Now Sir Cameron was a warrior who loved a fine ass, and this sneaky feline's was round and plump. Hastily own lusty hero dropped his Ebony armor to the floor, his axe forgotten stood in the corner. Standing unsheathed that mighty green mace, jutted out needfully as the feline purred. "Take me like a redoubt over ran by Forsworn." The sly Tiger smirked as own hero pounced atop him, and lustfully bludgeon that taboo orifice.
And so began the struggle, the warrior and thief contested all through the night. Around and around and over the edge the lusty pair strove, until at last as the sun peeked over the rift. Exhausted the combatants collapsed into sleep, the mighty Orc snoring until well past noon. When his thrall came looking after the Thane, Cameron awake with a satisfied smirk. Only with find the bed empty, the sexy Khajiit having vanished into the Warrens.
It was only as the hero sat up to put on his armor, the the might Orc noticed a serious lacking. Numb fingers sliding down under his well use cock, to discover he'd lost to the nimble jewel thief. Gone were the gems the hero presented most, not souls gem nor sapphires. But heavy seed sac's, no more would the hero duel lustily with his proud lance. For the wood of that shaft had lost its spring, and dangled drop limply. Never would he be a stronghold chief, but not much was the lose for he was no breeder.
But until this day a sleek feline, tells of the time when the dragon born cum his last. Bested by a sleek Khajiit who stole his two best friends, on a soft bed in the Bee and Barb. On a dark and lonely night, while the dragons were flying. A hero lay squealing in delight, while the thief sly and cunning made him a gelding.
And so ends our tale of Brave Sir Cameron, who won the battle and lost his balls...