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Legends of Tamriel


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Sara was getting heated herself, but was feeling a bit nervous on the balcony. What if someone came by?

 

 

Deeper and harder and faster she worked, her lips never leaving that of the nord. Her other hand gripped Arianna's and refused to let go, This was her first ever time with a woman, she was going to have things her way. harder and deeper, faster, until she was certain she could work the girl no more, and stopped her hand, bringing it up to taste, seductively licking her fingers of the moisture from the inside of the girl. She moves both hands to caress the sides of Arianna's face, lets her lips brush briefly and whispers "Thank you." to Arianna before pressing her lips against Ariannas again.

 

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Arianna cared not of their balcony adventure, if they got caught, they got caught, nothing wrong with what they're doing.

 

 

Her hips bucked and swayed, the woman's fingers buried deep inside of her, juices and moisture flowing out of her quickly, like the Markarth Waterfall itself. The tell-tale sign of an orgasm was when she bucked her hips and arched her back so hard that she nearly broke it and forced the Steward's hand away, Sara's fingers now covered in Nord love. Arianna whispered a tired, feeble "It's my pleasure..." before she returned the kiss.

 

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Boris was taking a late night stroll, and hears some odd noises, screaming or something similar. He walks in the direction of the Balcony, and exclaims "Goodness gracious! Couldn't you be doing that in a bedroom... Sara? I-I" He rushes off, face redder than the fruits and vegetables he worked with on occasion.

 

Sara blushes deeply, although she wants her turn, she wants release, she dare not stay here too much longer. "I suggest we follow Boris's suggestion, and head to my room, That is *she laughs quietly, her voice rough with desire and emotion* if you can walk." Sara stands, slips back on her flats and smoothes out her dress.

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Arianna chuckled softly, drunkenly standing back up.

 

"I can, I can.. I think we really spoked the poor guy with this.. He'll recover, they always do.

 

Arianna followed in the direction of Sara's room, whre her things were anyways, a grin on her face; could she be falling for someone who isn't her dear Camilla?

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VulViingKonahrik landed east of Shearpoint, there was a dwemer ruin futher east, but that was not his destination, he landed, and shouted into the snow "YOL TOOR SHUL!" the snow melted away, revealing a ancient nordic barrow, Krah Praan, he opened the door and spoke "Alok Dilon, Dreh Atmik Wah Hin Drog" The dead rose inside the barrow, all 1000 of them. VulViingKonahrik spoke again as they bowed before him "Alok" they rose "Hin Drog Zul Meyz" he said to 500 of them "Faal Praan Aal Praan" the other 500 went back to their slumber. VulViingKonahrik looked at the 500 "Meyz" and he led them down the mountain and south west wards
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Sara shuts the door and pulls Arianna on top of her, laying on her bed. She kicks off her shoes, and says, "Right, my turn. I want to know what it is to love a woman." She kisses Arianna, and whispers, "I'm waiting and more than ready."

 

Cyrus realizes he has been away from Markarth too long, and rushes to exit the portal. He leaves the Soul Cairn, and within a few hours is back in Markarth.

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A rough breeze caught a young woman's black hair, whipping it about wildly over the dull Reach landscape. Arms grasping at each other to stay warm, Kiterin trudged her way through the thickets and dead brush, a shortcut to Markarth. Her icy blue eyes scanned the terrain wearily. The city would be a much needed change of atmosphere. Sure, she'd been in the city jail (Cidna Mine, what a joke - cheap bastards), but she'd never really walked through the city. She had always been escorted by two guards on each shoulder, bare feet usually dragging against the cold stones. It made her twitchy. She grinned, "Lovelies, I'm home..." she cooed to no one in particular. She expected no reception at all. Except maybe a guard recognizing her. When she killed, it was alone in the dead of the night. Save the corpse bleeding in front of her. No one knew her name - she wasn't particularly infamous or worthy of conversation. People died in this harsh world. And all of the credit went to the dark brotherhood.

 

She began to lose some of her balance, legs swaying and buckling as she strode up the long steep stairs to the city entrance. She wanted a surprise, something interesting to happen. But she knew it was her duty to listen and follow orders and not be cheeky about them. She could laugh in her mind at all of the delights she thought of. Survival required her to keep a straight face, and what she wanted most was to continue to live - as much as she hated to admit it. Death was so interesting. To be a part of that dance someday... but it would be the end of all dances. So bittersweet.

 

Two guards nodded to her as she opened the gates into the city. "Home." she said flatly, looking about.

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Cyrus dismounts Voltair, who dispels and walks towards the gates of Markarth. They are pulled open by the guards, who look happy seeing him. "Welcome back, sire!" He nods at them and continues towards the Understone Keep. Everyone he passes smiles and greets him warmly. He feels good for the first time in ages. He arrives at the Keep, and the guards have the doors open as soon as they see him climbing the stairs. He sees Boris walking through the hallway looking harassed, and he says "Boris? What's troubling you?" Boris was always someone who could get Cyrus to smile. Boris turns and says "I just saw Sara on the balcony doing things to some nord woman! Sexual things!" He nods vigorously. "Not that I care what she gets up to, mind you. It's just.. on the balcony! Where anyone could walk by?" Cyrus looks bemused. So, she was seeking to find love in the women, huh? Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry too much about her. He says "I'll have a talk with her. Go get a drink or something. Where did she go?" Boris smiles and says "I think they moved to her room for more privacy. I'd leave them alone." He bustles off to get a drink and calm his nerves. Bemused, Cyrus walks to the Mournful Throne and sits down.
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Long pale fingers flickered to her chest, feeling her heart beat rapidly as she took in the sight of the city. Kiterin cast her cool eyes to the market stands a few feet away. The stench of the meat baking in the sun was to die for. Sure... she had plenty of money. She kept every piece of gold she had earned from her contracts... every piece. Her long arm shuffled through her pockets, removing a small pouch. And down the hatch it went. Kiterin gulped her life savings, keeping it safe in the pit of her stomach, true premeditation. She didn't care who saw her. She'd been to the Cidna Mine before. Something was wrenching her to be incarcerated again.

 

In a sudden motion, she grabbed a goat kidney from the stand, holding it up like some kind of prize, staring directly into the eyes of the vendor. Why did she always have to do this? What compelled her to be dragged to jail..... for nothing? Her hand quavered, slowly lowering the meat back down to the table.

 

"Erm.. I....must have forgotten my change...." she breathed, "....s-sorry....."

 

Her trembling bloodstained hand inched away, slowly returning back to her pocket. Her raven black hair almost hissed as she whipped around to turn on her heel and bolt in the opposite direction. Her bare feet patted against the hard stoned streets, echoing down the alleys. Her bloodied hand wiped her cheek numbly, becoming damp. Crying... why was she crying?... She hurried to take shelter near the waterfalls at the keep. Huddled behind the veil of the water and muffled by the noise, she wept.

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Cyrus decided he would take in a bit of night air, and walked out of the Keep doors, ordering they be left open. He notices someone weeping nearby. He follows the sound, and finds a woman crying behind one of the falls. Performing a bit of magic to freeze the fall momentarily, he says, "Excuse me, young lady. Are you all right? Did you need help? Are you lost maybe? Oh, where are my manners, I am Lord Cyrus Belafonte, Jarl of Markarth. You are?"
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