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  • The Most Beautiful Kill [Part I] Oct 5, 2012

    “Hello, you gorgeous mer…”

    Dreven looked up from his mead and into the face of a gorgeous Nord woman. Surprised, he looked around to make sure she was really talking to him. This *was* Windhelm, after all. She noticed this and giggled.

    “Yes, I am talking to you. You caught my eye when you entered and I just…HAD to introduce myself… I am Elena Stone-Fist.”

    She held out her hand and Dreven’s mental brows rose up into his hairline. What where the chances of THIS? His face broke into a wide grin and he stood, took her hand in his own and bent low to kiss it.

    “I am honored, m’lady… What can a lowly Dunmer traveler do for such a…beautiful, elegant Nord woman like yourself?”

    She giggled stupidly as he appealed to her inherited sense of racial pride. The rest of the upper room of Candlehearth Hall had fallen deathly silent. Only the fire crackling happily seemed to not care what was going on here. Not really caring herself, the woman took a seat opposite Dreven and leaned forward, pressing her breasts together. The effect was tantalizing; Dreven could not keep his eyes off of her ample bosom so openly displayed. He felt a rise in his pants but fought it. Not yet. It’s not time. A young, disheveled looking Breton girl walked by and Dreven called out to her.

    “Excuse me, miss. Would you mind bringing your finest wine to this beautiful lady here? Spare no expense.”

    He dropped a hefty coinpurse on the edge of the table and the girl looked both shocked and impressed. She picked it up, nodded silently and headed downstairs. He heard the old bat at the counter ranting about his “filthy Dunmer money” but when the young girl returned, she returned not with his coin, but with a large bottle of aged juniper berry wine. Dreven uncorked it with a flourish, and poured a full glass for the woman opposite him. He offered it to her; she took it with a coy smile. Dreven returned her smile and raised his tankard in a toast.

    “To Skyrim, and all her beauty. Both in nature…and people.”

    They both took a drink and grinned. Elena propped her head up, her chin resting in her palm.

    “I’ve never seen a well-to-do Dunmer. What do you do for a living? You must be affiliated with the Thieves’ Guild or some such robber band, yes?”

    Dreven controlled his face as it tried to twitch into a scowl. The racist undertone was not lost on him. However, he simply masked his scorn with a small half-smile and leaned back in his chair. The worn leather of his armor squeaked softly against the wood; it was a sound he would never get tired of and it even alleviated some of his annoyance, putting some of the airiness back in his voice.

    “Of course not, dearest. I am simply a curious traveler. I happen upon rare treasures and artifacts in my journeys and bring them into town to offer to those more appreciative than myself. After a while, the coin adds up.”

    She looked a little miffed and eyed him pointedly.

    “Not…ancient Nordic artifacts, right? Those belong where they lay and, I don’t mean to be rude, should never be touched by, well…your people.”

    She had put an ugly inflection on “your”, like even the indirect reference to a Dunmer tasted foul on her tongue. Dreven felt the rage building inside him. Still, he kept his composure; his raging erection had long since shriveled up and died. That tended to happen when the person you were engaging spewed nothing but the verbal equivalent of excrement from their mouth.

    “Of course not. I wouldn’t dare dream of it.”

    Her expression softened and she returned to her suggestive pose. She let her silky golden blonde curls slither over her shoulder and in front of her as she moved. Dreven had to admit that when she wasn’t talking, she was quite an arousing sight to see. The corset she wore over her light blue dress tucked her in in all the right places and pushed her perfect breasts up to just the right elevation. Her face, graced with freckles that crossed her nose and cheeks, was absolutely flawless; not a wrinkle or blemish to be seen. Her eyes, though cold and full of offensive intrigue, were the most alluring shade of blue Dreven had ever seen. Blue as the sky, but bright as a frost spell; they almost glowed. He stared. She would be such a beautiful…accomplishment. She sighed and her chest rose and fell. This time, Dreven ignored it.

    “You, my good mer, are quite interesting. Generally, Dunmer are quite repulsive in just about every way but you…You have a level of physical attractiveness and verbal eloquence I never thought possible from a dark elf. You are indeed a credit to you race. You should be proud.”

    “What I am proud of, my lady, is that I have attracted such a rare treat such as yourself. I am honored and unworthy. So I shall ask again: how can I be of service?”

    He had to fight to not speak through gritted teeth. Truth be told, he wished to get things over with right now but the very idea was, in all honestly, stupid. Instead, he settled on changing the subject to what the hell she wanted, not that it mattered. In the end he would be getting what he wanted, so her needs were a moot point. She tossed her hair back and huffed a bit; perhaps she noticed the rushed tone in his question, or perhaps she was feeling superior once more. It mattered not for she still flashed him a wide smile and leaned in closer to him. She had lifted herself clean out of her chair and was using the table to support her weight. Behind her three Nord men drinking mead together stopped whatever they were doing to stare at her now airborne backside. She looked Dreven in his one good eye and spoke low and sensually.

    “I am beautiful and I know this. However, my father has denied me the right to give myself to the man of my choice. Though a handsome Nord, my father disproves of his…ah…profession. Word is…he is a skilled assassin.”

    Dreven mentally smirked at the irony of the situation, but did not interrupt.

    “I want this man. I will have him. But first, I must scorn my father. If word gets around that I have lain with a Dunmer, then my father will reconsider, I am sure. He would most certainly have me involve myself with an assassin than a Dunmer.”

    She eyed him, her irises sparking in the candlelight.

    “So, in accepting this arrangement, you get to lay with a beautiful Nord woman, a fantastic privilege I remind you, and I get to be with the man I truly want. What say you?”

    Dreven turned the offer over in his head several times. True, she was a beauty, of that there was no doubt; rather, it was the terrible mess of verbiage that fell from her lips that turned the dark elf’s stomach. He could very well copulate with her and enjoy a comfort he’d been without for several weeks, but could he make it to climax before spilling her entrails all over the sheets? A voice in his mind said no, but an even louder voice in his libido said yes.

    “My lady…it would be my utmost honor to assist you.”

    She flashed a large smile and sat back, satisfied. Her hair once again caressed the smooth skin of her shoulders and something stirred within Dreven. This time, it wasn’t just sexual arousal.
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