Sexlivion

"What took you so long?" Adrienne scowled. The sun had already set by the time I had bathed, put on clean clothes (I really just threw on a standard-issue Mages Guild robe for convenience, and was going commando underneath -- not that I thought anyone would know), and grabbed a quick bite from Skingrad's most famous bakery, Salmo 's Sweetrolls. When she answered the door to her private quarters, she had changed into something much more relaxed and comfortable, a satiny bedrobe of sensual red trimmed with black. "As you might have guessed, this... uh... meeting will be about your recommendation letter," she explained. She maneouvered behind me to shut the door firmly, then traced the outline of the lock with one finger. There was a flare of bright green and I heard the click of the lock. Magically locked. Hmm... "I don't like interruptions," she explained, then walked to a luxurious armchair where she sat and crossed her legs with al...

Finding Erthor for the Skingrad Mages Guild was a thankfully uncomplicated affair and I returned in short order. He'd been deep in Bleak Flats Cave and blissfully unaware that Mehrunes Dagon had opened gateways to hell all over Tamriel. I wondered if we'd really done him a favour calling him back to Skingrad. Adrienne's second task was straightforward as well, but a bit daunting: The recover of some dwemer artifacts. The Arcane University had lost a shipment of dwemer mechanical parts required for overdue repairs to the Orrery (and honestly, I had to look up on the sly what an orrery was). By "lost", Adrienne explained that they were not merely misplaced but stolen. A ransom letter had been delivered and I was to recover the items. The University refused to pay up, and normally the Imperial Legion or their Battlemage division (having connections with the Mages Guild and all) would help. Except with the Oblivion crisis, there was now also a manpower crisis a...

There's something about short pigtails on a middle-aged woman that makes me shudder. Well honestly, Adrienne Berene , the head of the Skingrad Mages Guild, wasn't bad looking, and there was something cute about pigtails, but it just didn't quite fit her. Her hair was pulled back in a really severe schoolteacher sort of way, which rather fitted her personality. Adreinne was blunt and no-nonsense, and generally didn't have a lot of time for anyone. Even before the Oblivion crisis she was this way, but with Kvatch reduced to an ashen heap , she was busier than ever. I think she had dreaded me to be a new Mages Guild wannabe, but I had Carahil's recommendation behind me and her whole outlook brightened. After Kvatch and closing the Oblivion gate, I had determined I wouldn't play hero anymore, but Adrienne bluntly told me she needed something done, and as she'd run out of staff to do it, she was sending me -- That is, if I wanted any sort of recommendation ...

I quickly scavenged whatever looked useful from the dead and scrambled to find somewhere to hide and think things through. At least the Oblivion Gate that had brought me here was still behind me. The sheer stupidity of what I had done was only now just sinking in with greater clarity. I really had no guarantee that the gate would still be there or accessible when I stepped through. This place could have been swarming with daedra ready to tear me limb from limb or torture me. I could be lost forever in Oblivion. I might still not make it out alive. Honestly, I really wanted to turn back. This was work for heroes, not mere mortals like myself. I had come to Tamriel for a new beginning. To see sights, make new friends, form new relationships, and have mind-blowing sex with hot women. So far I'd done all of these, but impressive and intriguing though the sights of Oblivion were, I really could have done without. But I was here now, and people were counting on me. And fortuna...

I had a wonderfully relaxing night with Sigrid. The poor dear was still tired after her desperate flight from doomed Kvatch , and from her wild "rides" last night. She had invited me to ride her, then we turned over for her to play cowboy. Finally exhausted, she had fallen into a contented, purring sleep on my chest, and so the night passed. By dawn's dim light, surely everyone had guessed at what had gone on between us, and a handsome orc woman (though admittedly I do have a very hard time with finding long flat noses and boar fangs jutting from their lower jaws to be attractive on any woman) came by to delicately wake us. It was time to get moving. Still no reinforcements from Anvil or Skingrad, and Savlian surmised that they had their own troubles. I escorted them to the nearby GottShaw Inn where an injured Legion Soldier assigned to road patrol offered to take them the rest of the way to Anvil. He'd had to rest the night after being waylaid by camps when he...

I honestly thought to find some large fire somewhere... but the entire city of Kvatch  -- the entire mountaintop -- was a smoking ruin! There was not grass or leaf left among the ashes, and what trees were left had been practically reduced to charcoal. Some enormous magic or unimaginable might had shattered the city walls and broken the buildings within. I dismounted and sent my skittish horse back down before she bolted or threw me. She'd probably find her way back to Anvil. From the city gates, a motley crew of city guards were hustling a handful of survivors ahead while they desperately tried to hold off monsters harrying them from behind. This was some kind of hellish daedric invasion! Right in front of the city gate was a grand, flaming gateway. An oval of obsidian framed that looked like it had sprung out from the very earth. Fortunately for me, the invasion was over and the main forces, having razed the city, had pulled back for now. There was nothing here for them, ...

Interesting days were ahead! Gweden Cathouse was up and running, though for the moment, with very limited staff (it was just Tsarrina, and Maeva the Buxom was intrigued enough to try it part-time) she ran it more as a small inn for the moment. Mirabelle had the idea to stock some of my "get it up" potions, as she called them, at the Cathouse and promised to forward my share of sales to the Mages Guild in my absence. Tsarrina begged me to keep an ear peeled for anyone who might be interested in being an escort. She'd heard that the Tiber Septim Brothel had recently been sold to foreign investors and reverted into merely an upper class hotel , so there might be several freelancing prospects in the Imperial City. I'd be going in that direction on my way to Bruma anyway, so I agreed. Research had yielded that the Shrine of Namira was just to the east of Bruma, out in the wilderness and frequented by a few anti-social worshippers. I was sure that the  spooky phant...

Maeva had passed out, her body slick and hot from perspiration. I lay weakly atop her, still deep inside her hot, juicy sex. After a moment, Mirabelle lay down beside me and gave me a playful kiss. I'd forgotten all about her! "I was sure she was going to outlast you," Mirabelle grinned mischievously. I kissed her back. "Never." She looked sadly at how tired I was, and fondled my hand. "Can you at least cuddle with me a while?" "I can do better than that," I winked. She raised an eyebrow, but waited patiently. I slowly pulled out of Maeva, and gently carried her to the rug by the fireplace and tucked her in for the night. Then I went to my gear to get a potion that quickly restored stamina. One of the most basic potions alchemists are taught to make are potions that restored stamina. Not only are ingredients commonplace and plentiful but the applications were very wide. Soldiers could march further. Watchmen could be more alert....

"Thank you for recovering RockShatter!" cried Maeva. She cradled the weapon fondly and gave a happy, relieved, sigh. "Mirabelle and I talked today. We were hoping you could possibly do me another favour." "Oh?" "Yes... I..." she cast a mischievous look at Mirabelle, who grinned and drew the latch on the door before moving close to gently embrace me from behind. She affectionately lay her head on my back. I tensed. For just a moment I thought she was running her own version of the Gweden Sirens and I was in desperate trouble. Maeva was, like most Nords, tall and sturdily built. She's run the farm on her own for a long time, and an impressive build, however feminine she might carry herself--I was sure she could daze a horse with a solid right hook from her well-muscled arms. Maeva leaned close to breathe in my ear, "I want to know what a hero feels like." And just to make sure there was no mistaking her intentions, she rubbe...

Mirabelle continued to be attentive and affectionate (though definitely not in a clingy girly way!) all through the next morning when we took an inventory of what Tsarrina needed to fix up Gweden Cathouse and replace various items, such as the bloodstained carpet. On our way back to Anvil for the necessary shopping, we dropped by Whitmond Farm, a small place growing corn and potatoes just outside Anvil's northern gate. There, the lone caretaker, Maeva, kindly loaned us her small cart driven by a weary mule. Maeva was a lovely, friendly Nord woman with probably the biggest breasts this side of Cyrodiil. Doubtless the reason that she was known affectionately as Maeva the Buxom. She was clearly once a beauty with creamy white skin and excellent complexion, but long hours under the sun and a hard farmer's life had roughened her hands and given her a bit of a tan, though Nords generally didn't tan well. I was concerned that she'd be leaving the farm untended to come with...

It was all over except for the cleanup. The khajiit Tsarrina was very cooperative with the Anvil City Watch, and back in Anvil, Gogen's testimony combined with her own statements cleared her: Faustina and Signy had forced her into their blackmail scheme, making her their unwilling accomplice. That she had immediately surrendered counted in her favor, and the Watch Captain decided to let her go with a fine and keep her under light surveillance. The Chapel of Dibella gave Faustina and Signy their final rites, and I paid for a burial at sea. Overall this seemed the best way, as no one wanted graves defiled in retribution. The modest reward offered by the City Watch went straight toward funeral expenses, and I made up the shortfall myself. I'd have to spend a day or two gathering herbs and brewing potions for the Mages Guild to build up my funds again, but that seemed far away right now. Something didn't add up for me about Gogen's story, and I approached him about it:...

Signy snuggled in my arms with a dreamy-happy look on her face. She was so adorable like that I couldn't help but kiss her on the forehead. "I love you," she said. "I love you too," I sort-of lied. I really didn't know her well enough to be in love with her. And her criminal activities were another turn off, of course. But in general, I'm really quite weak when it comes to women showing me attention. I've always thought that if they came on to me on their own initiative that it was definitely more promising that we'd stay together once married. But often women who want to spend time with me really just want to be friends, and it all turns out profoundly disappointing when they tell me I'm not their type or they're already seeing someone. Not Signy. She was definitely not seeing anyone else. And we'd made hot passionate love when that was clearly not what she and Faustina did with the men they lured up to Gweden Farm. Where w...

I'd patiently spent over two hours with Mirabelle and by the time I left, the sun had already set. I was getting tired after a very full day, and wanted to skip Gweden Farm entirely. Something was obviously up with Signy and Faustina, and since the Anvil City Watch was involved, it was probably illegal if not outright deadly, and it was best if I gave them a wide berth. Gogan was intercepted me almost as soon as I stepped out of Mirabelle's boarding house for sailors, The Fo'c's'le. "Friend, you're new in town, aren't you?" "Yes. Um... Do I know you?" "Gogan's the name. Look... I saw two girls come up to you earlier today. Signy and Faustina, right?" "Yes..." "You're new so you might not know this, but they're trouble." I took a quick look around to see if we were being noticed, then motioned him inside The Fo'c's'le. "Let's cut to the chase: You're working...

The sailors bunked at the The Fo'c's'le were mostly out till late, so it was easy to catch Mirabelle Monet for a private chat. No rooms available, unfortunately, and she repeated her mantra to me about sailors only. That was all right with me as I was really there for information about Signy, Faustina, and Gweden Farm, and asking about a room was just an ice-breaker. She had a funny look on her face when I asked, and halfway through telling me about how Gweden Farm used to be Gweden Cathouse . There was an agreement with the owner, Tsarrina , Mirabelle didn't cater to locals. Which suited her fine because she had enough clients and she didn't want trouble from wives anyway. Sailors were typically either unmarried or had plausible deniability of any wives back at their home parts. "Are you sure I'm not boring you?" she asked again. "What makes you ask?" Mirabelle narrowed her eyes and had a sly smile. "You weren't sent by M...

The day was winding down, and I decided to poke around the harbour, which was the seedier side of Anvil. Not to say I liked slumming, but I did like to know the goings-on and latest gossip, and, of course, making new friends and connections. You never know who you might meet. Something that got my attention immediately was the boarding house for sailors, The Fo'c's'le  (sailor's shorthand for forecastle ). It was run by a Breton woman with a rather widely known and vulgar reputation: "Mirabelle Monet runs quite a boarding house. I understand all of the sailors leave very satisfied ." It was only for sailors, apparently, so the only rooms for landlubbers was at The Count's Arms , which, unfortunately, was presently full. I had wanted to lay low from the Mages Guild to give Carahil some distance from me and quietly restore her reputation, so with some daylight left, I went over to Ms. Monet's. In truth, I was a bit hesitant. Perhaps she was easy, bu...

After our exertions, skinny dipping in the Abecean Sea was the perfect way to end our date. Dunbarrow Cove opened out seaward on the south side, and the large rock formations shielded the entrance from the castle. With surprising confidence, Dairihill explained that we could strip down while safely hidden from even the guardsmen on the tallest castle towers. Clearly she'd done this before. I would never have imagined what a wild thing she was at heart! I had heard of some interesting shipwrecks off coast not far from Anvil and had some Potions of Water Breathing brewed for in anticipation, and now shared them with my surprisingly playful companion. It seemed our recent intimacy had loosed her up considerably with me, and her fun, girly side emerged. We slinked in and out of the wrecks playing hide-and-seek, and turned over sunken barrels and chests looking for loot. All we emerged with were some young mudcrabs, which might seem rather boring, but they do have tasty meat. And ...

Dairihill and I left the Countess's bedchamber and she swiftly led me down the route we hadn't taken earlier. It wound downward, deep into the rock on which the Castle stood, surely, and finally ended in a sturdy door. From her keychain she singled out a non-descript key and unlocked the door. The bolt clunked heavily and the door creaked open. A short, rough-hewn passage rounded a corner to reveal a vast cavern. And a ship! " Dunbarrow Cove !" I realized. The fabled site of a sea battle that culminated in a ship being buried under rock. It is a somewhat far-fetched story ( 1 2 3 4 ) when one hears of it, but it is nevertheless true. I was surprised that the ship was so well preserved. Some crystals giving off enchanted light were placed at strategic locations, lighting junctions on various paths. "Yes. When the Count hadn't yet disappeared, he made sure this cave was properly cleared of vermin and the ship refurbished into living quarters as a kind ...

Dairihill led me deep into the storage rooms, careful not to be too conspicuous about it. Finally we darted into a room, she quietly shut the door behind us with practiced ease, and came to a particular alcove. "I make sure every storeroom is cleaned and dusted at least weekly, so we won't have rats or other vermin," Dairihill whispered. "It also means I won't leave any prints in accumulated dust whenever I come here." She paused to listen, to make sure no one was close by outside, then pulled hard at a carved pillar, revealing it to be in fact a cleverly disguised mechanism that caused a section of wall to swing open to a man-made passage beyond. "I keep this corridor clean myself," she explained. "In case the Countess ever needs it. It's an old secret escape route. But I come here for a different reason." She slipped in, and motioned me to follow. On the other side was a lever which swung the door shut. We were in pitch dark...