Deadly Stories
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IiS Chapter 01-03
🕑 Added 2025-03-26 18:48:05 +0000 UTCChapter 01
I woke up with the bitter feel of frost on my face. I looked around, immediately noticing my hands were bound as my memories flooded back into me. I was… Who was I, and why was I getting a sense of deja vu from this situation? “Hey, you, you’re finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?”
My eyes glanced up at the man, and I recognized him. Holy shit, I was in skyrim. He kept talking, but I was so caught up in my own head that I tuned him out. Who was I? I was… I am… I can’t quite remember. I only had fragments of who I was, but there was one thing I knew for certain. I was in Skyrim. Skyrim is a video game in the world I came from, and for some reason, I was sent here over everywhere else.
It was my choice as well. I knew that- at least the lizard brain part of my brain knew that for some reason. I had to prepare for what was to come. Who knew if everything would play out like it did in the video game? I tried to speak, but no words came out. It was as if I was forced to follow along with the situation right now, and I hadn’t quite gained my freedom yet.
“Why are we stopping?” The wood elf asked. “What do you think? End of the line.” The normal beginning cutscene played out before I finally got to the character selection screen. The choices were far different than how I would normally go.
I would normally pick Orc or Orsimer but now that choice seemed extremely bad. I doubted everyone would be fine with an Orc running around. It made me almost want to pick Nord just so I didn’t have to worry about being killed for being different than most people. The race I chose would have several nuances outside of gameplay and combat. The race I chose would also determine my lifespan. If I wanted to live more than a hundred years I would have to pick a mer race. Rather, I’d have to pick an elf. Now, which one did I choose?
My choice was boiled down to elves. So I could be the racist who loves the smell of their own farts elf, the dark ‘comically evil also the most oppressed’ elves, or the ones with the shit passive and active racial traits. Fuck it, we ball! Elf nazis it is! It would also make my character lean more towards magic, which wasn’t normally my play style. I normally did a jack-of-all-trades build, but I could get behind casting magic. I look at the changes that particular classes would make before I notice something different than the normal choices.
On top of the normal information, there was also a charisma effect each race would have, but also how most Nords would view you. Picking Altmer gave me above-average charisma but would make me be negatively viewed, if not outright hated, by Nords. Breaking it down even further, almost every other race viewed Altmer in a negative light. What’s this? There were more options beyond the first race I chose, you could make hybrids of up to four different races based on your grandparents.
I automatically select Nord as one of my ancestors, which mitigates the negative aspects of the Altmer. The passive and active racials aspects of each class slightly changed and were incorporated into a unique buff. 25% frost resistance and 25 magicka while the active daily regenerated 25% of my magicka a second and panicked the nearby enemies for thirty seconds. It appeared the total time of the magicka buff was reduced by half while the Nord buff had a reduced effect, only making enemies less likely to hit, and if they did, it dealt less damage instead of sending them fleeing from me.
I wasn’t done with just those choices, though; if I could pick more than two, then I would. I couldn’t pick Argonian or Khajiit. I mean, I could, but I wouldn’t because they both had complete negative charisma towards other races. I would totally fuck an Argonian or Khajiit, but I guess that made me odd compared to the average person. Even if I picked base Altmer I had no doubt I could get a bunch of pussy from Nords who looked down on me.
Both Argonian and Khajiit would be me shooting myself in my proverbial foot if I wanted to have sex with lots of women. Orc was similar but the negative charisma wasn’t at the end of the bar but sort of in the middle of the negative charisma. Orsimer was human enough not to be a complete turn-off to other races, while the other two apparently were. I wanted the magic resistance that Breton provided and the active racial Orsimer gave, so those were my third and fourth choices.
Three of the races I chose were on the positive side of the charisma spectrum, but even still I felt the hit on my beauty as I picked Orsimer. I breathed in and out as I thought about the amazing active racial trait orcs get as I locked it in. I looked at the effects again and noticed that they didn’t decrease further as I chose more ancestors. It meant there was no reason not to pick four ancestors rather than two.
Passives effects
12.5% magic resistance, 25% frost resistance, can enter orc strongholds, and 25 magicka
Active power
Panick enemies, absorb 50% of magicka from all incoming spells, take half damage, do double physical damage, regenerate 25% of your maximum magicka for thirty seconds
The daily cooldown I could use made me effectively invincible while it was active. I would be exploiting that to make sure I’d never come close to death. I was going to play the first few levels like an absolute pussy until I made myself OP. I was brought to another menu to customize my body. It came with more bells and whistles than the default Skyrim character creator.
I could choose my height… Max, obviously which was six foot six and penis length… Not max, I didn’t want to turn my women’s guts out with a foot-long sword. Eight inches was plenty in my opinion, it could even be too much for some of the smaller races.
Skyrim had all the characters be somewhat similar in height, but I knew in real life the height of everyone was going to be drastically different. Argonian and Khajiit had to be smaller than Nord or Orc just from what they’re genetically better at. The martial races would lean towards bigger/stronger frames by default, and the stealthy, agile races would be smaller/thinner on average.
I think orcs never stopped growing either, it was just part of their race that until they died, they’d just keep getting taller. Either way, I kept making changes until I got a good-looking person as my avatar. The changes I made also affected his charisma; it bumped me up from a +2 to a +3. Most Nords were +1 or +2, Altmer was +3 to +5, while Orc was -2 to -4.
It meant that I was on average more attractive than most, with the few exceptions being pure Altmer, which most races would hate by default. I didn’t have any negative racial views on me right now, but there was a much smaller group of Nords who would never speak to me as they didn’t think Nords should interbreed. They were a minority, though, and it would just be easier not dealing with them or just outright murdering them if they became too much of a problem.
It was something to worry about in the future, though. Not everyone would like me just because my parents weren’t full-blooded Nords. Locking in the changes, I come across the last screen, choosing my name. Did I go with just my name? Except I couldn’t remember my name right now. Funkmaster69, Fartbuckle, or Poop McDinglefart seemed to fit my current attitude better. Choosing a name is actually pretty difficult. I put in Rage almost on instinct before locking it in.
I felt my soul twist to fit the parameters, and as I did so, I lost most of my powers. In a flood of memories, I remember my first life. I was a literal god- well, I was a god in my second life; this would make this my third. Only a small portion of my powers managed to come along with me through the squeezing of my powers.
I could grow indefinitely, the women I slept with would get stronger and more beautiful, and I had a storage space that could be increased over time. I felt that I could regain some of my powers, but as of right now, that is all I was left with. I looked around, finally getting control back over my body as I took in a deep breath for the first time in this new world. With a smile on my face, the world resumed.
Chapter 02
The same beginning goes on again with one of the Nord captives proving how big his balls are by skipping the line and offering to be the first beheaded. “As fearless in death as he was in life.” She pointed to me before shouting. “You prisoner, you’re next.” Before I move, I ask. “Can I ask what I’m being charged with?”
She looked aggravated as she answered. “It doesn’t matter what crimes you committed. You’re here with Ulfric, so you’ll die with him.” I interrupt her again. “Yeah, but it seems kind of random. Why not kill the most important criminals first? That way, you know they’re dead. Who knows if the execution will be interrupted by something? I just don’t quite understand why some random man who didn’t commit a crime is the second up to the chopping block instead of the guy who murdered the king.”
Hadvar spoke up. “He kind of has a point.” It bothered me. Why wouldn’t they kill Ulfric right from the start unless they planned to let him escape somehow? The Thalmor was using him to deplete both the Imperial Legion and Nord forces to make them both easier to defeat if they went to war again. In the game, there are documents at the Thalmor embassy that Ulfric Stormcloak was an asset that has not yet been activated. It implied that he was put under a spell that could somehow influence him or that they thought they could control him in some way.
I don’t think Ulfric was an asset in the normal sense of being controlled by them, but as long as he was alive, the Imperial Legion would need to fight against him. Otherwise, the Thalmor could use that as an excuse to restart the war. That was why I thought the lady who did not want to sacrifice him was a plant to keep the war going. Why did I think that?
“It doesn’t matter if he’s on the list; he goes up next.” Well, her trying to kill me was a good clue that she was a Thalmor infiltrator. I point it out to everyone else. “Isn’t it odd that the usurper isn’t already dead? Ulfric Stormcloak should be killed right here and now if you don’t want the civil war to continue or escalate. It just seems odd that you want to kill a crimeless man over the king slayer. Like you’re waiting for something to happen that will let him escape.”
Everyone looked at her all at once, making it obvious they noticed the discrepancy now as well. I was the only one who knew that my death would be interrupted by a dragon, but I didn’t want to get my knees dirty. I was myself and not a game character so I refused to sit back and head to the chopping block without making an attempt to not go up.
She disgruntly agreed. “Fine, Ulfric is up next, then you. Are you happy?” I looked at her, confused. “No, I’m still going to die for nothing. Why would I be happy that I get an extra thirty seconds of life?” I asked the question in a condescending tone as no one noticed I was making my way closer to her. Everyone was more interested in Ulfric going towards the chopping block, but because of the time I bought, he didn’t even need to bend over before Alduin showed up and knocked everyone over.
As I fell, I moved my arms under my butt so I could get them in front of me from behind me. As everyone stood up, I moved towards the Imperial woman and bit into her throat. As I did so, I also pulled the sword out of her sheath with the hands that were now facing the correct direction to fight as I got them in front of me when I fell over. I see the shock go through her expression as the life starts to fade from her eyes. In the video game, one-shots without weapons were very uncommon, but in real life, having your carotid artery severed meant death shortly after.
I kicked her in the chest as she desperately grabbed at me, perhaps just to hold onto something before she died. Her body crumpled lifelessly backward as I made my way to the tower. Ralof and Ulfric had a significant reaction to what I did. “Why send Ulfric up to get executed?” I couldn’t just come out right and say that I valued my life more than his, that would piss both of them off. “Because it stinks. The whole situation stinks like Thalmor wants this civil war to continue to weaken us.”
I wanted to set that seed in their head. The real enemy was the Thalmor… Well, they were the secret final boss, but dragons could become a far bigger problem if they were left alive. Dragons could be infinitely resurrected, which meant if Alduin wasn’t an idiot about it, he could send dozens of dragons in to wipe out a town before raising the ones who died in the fighting to live again. If he did that with every single city, then there’d be no way for humanity to mount a plausible counterattack against the dragons. If he had five or ten dragons with him, even the Dragonborn wouldn’t be able to do anything against him except burn to death.
Especially if they ran away when they were injured instead of sticking around waiting to be slain and giving me their soul. They wouldn’t do that though, as smart as dragons were, there was constant infighting for power, if Alduin did something so cowardly many would outright defy him for being a pussy. That’s why they were going to lose.
I cut through the bindings on my hands as instead of jumping down like the game would have expected me to do, I hugged the wall before jumping out of the city entirely. As I did so, I felt that the world was fighting against what I was doing; what I did shouldn’t be possible as the world attempted to fix what I did. With a final shift, I could feel the restrictions around me, specifically, had loosened slightly.
This was a world based around a video game, but I was going to break the hell out of it. The normal routes didn’t make much sense when put in ways that a normal human could function. A lot of the choices given to you have to play out in a certain way, otherwise, the story would break. That was what I felt weakening, as I was now less bound to the storyline.
I made my way to the first bandit camp before making extremely quick work of them, my body wasn’t fair. I was almost a foot taller than most, in terms of strength, even if we were the same, I’d still have a huge advantage just from my own weight. I ripped through them as if they weren’t even there before I made my way to the first set of standing stones.
After selecting thief stone, I crouched down, sneaking my way toward Riverwood, as you never know when an enemy might appear out of nowhere. Soon making my way to the village, I got to work right away. Talking to Faendal first, I asked him. “Hey, you need any help with anything?” I knew he was going to give me a quest, and as he handed me the letter, I patiently waited for him to explain what he wanted me to do with it.
Heading in to talk to Camilla next, I hand the letter over before going back outside and making him my follower. It felt natural, like I gained access to another part of myself when I had a person following me. After training my archery with him as high as I could, I moved on to the next part of my job. I needed to get the claw for her family next.
Chapter 03
Camilla’s Point of view
I stood angrily in our store as I argued with my brother. “Well, one of us has to do something!” “I said no! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief chasing.” I responded to his retort. “Well, what are we going to do then, huh?” I see a man enter out of the corner of my eye; his height and large frame take me off-guard for a moment as Lucan continues. “We’re done talking about this! Oh, a customer. Sorry you had to hear that.”
He ignored my brother and moved toward me. He handed me a love letter from Sven, and I can only get about halfway through it before I want to tear it up. He already sees us as a sure thing and wants me to know my place cooking and cleaning his inn while taking care of our many children. That isn’t what I want in life; I want adventure, fun, and fresh appearances from other people.
“You tell Sven he can go fuck himself if he thinks I’ll just be his breeding mare.” I calmed down a bit as both of them looked at me in shock. I normally didn’t let my emotions get the best of me; I was good at hiding how I truly felt, but it seemed like everything was against us at the moment. We had our golden claw stolen, then Sven, who I was leaning towards dating over Faendal, and he blew his chances completely.
The adventurer who entered spoke for the first time. “I’ll be back to ask if you need any more help.” Just the sound of his sexy voice sent shivers down my spine. Now, this was a man’s man, not the little wimpy bard or archer, but someone who could hold me close and make me feel safe at night. Our exchange was brief, but it already had me mostly forgetting about Sven or the stolen golden claw.
He brought my other love interest back with him as he stepped up and asked me. “So… Is there anything else you need help with?” If I wasn’t sure before, seeing Faendal in the subordinate position to him sealed the deal on whether I would end up with him or not. Faendal was just too… Weak and cowardly for me to like, the same went with Sven, but they were the only choices in this village… Now I had another choice though, and out of the three. I’ll take the big hunk of a man every time.
My brother told him about the claw I had already almost forgotten about and I volunteered myself to lead him out of the city. He was so manly that I felt flustered talking with him. “S-so. We’ve only just met, but what do you do for fun?” “I mostly just adventure, you know, explore long-forgotten ruins and take on the thankless, impossible tasks most villages have before moving on. Maybe I’ll tell you some of the stories after I return with your family heirloom.”
He was so sure he could bring it back that he didn't doubt for a second he would fail. That level of competence was extremely attractive. I wanted to go with him, but it felt like something was stopping me from doing so. With a quivering voice, I bid him farewell before rushing back home and eagerly awaiting his return.
…
We made our way to the crypt where the claw was. It would also save me a trip after I get the dragonstone that Farengar in Whiterun will want later. It’ll skip needing to go back and pick it up, letting me skip the process. Once again, I wasn’t surprised at how skill I was at fighting. A wolf showed up, and I cleaved its head from its body. The bandits blocking the path were easily dealt with.
It just wasn’t fair, I technically had thousands of years of experience fighting, and I was more accustomed to fighting at higher speeds. Even with a slower body, I could easily predict how a person would move or attack. We quickly make our way inside, and I get to the only real problem I’d have with the quest: the giant spider.
Who knew if the spider was more poisonous than what it would be in the game? I would be terrified if I went forward, thinking he would be just as easy to kill as usual, only to have my arms corrode away from his attacks. I toss a few jars of oil onto the ground, which makes the spider drop down. Tossing another jug at the spider, I drop a torch into the split oil on the ground before it hits.
The spider immediately burst into flames, along with a significant portion of the room, while I stepped back and pulled out an apple. Taking a bite as I waited for the spider to finish burning, I asked Faendal. “You want one?” He just looked sick to his stomach. This wasn’t a game; the most Faendal had done in his life was hunt small game. He wasn’t used to the mass deaths that followed the Dragonborn.
While we waited, I had him train me in archery again. I would keep him as a follower for the next few levels until I reached fifty in archery. Making our way through the rest of the crypt, I made it to the end, got the special claw, item, and word wall, and then we made our way back to Riverwood. I broke off with Faendal for a bit, I didn’t want him to see what I was planning to do with the girl he was in love with.
…
Returning the claw, I got my reward as I purchased all the iron ore he had again. That was something I was on the lookout for right now, also taking iron equipment off of every person I came across and killed. Making my way back to the store, I made my moves on Camilla. Taking her upstairs, I tell her stories from my second life as a hero.
Telling her a heroic story to get her heart beating, then a sad one to make her more emotional, and finally a comedic one to break the tension. Wooing women was effortless for me at this point, and one thing led to another. We made our way out of the village and…
“Oh, Yes, yes, yes, yes!” I was glad I led her out of the town and to a witch's house nearby that I cleared out, otherwise, everyone would know what we were doing. I slapped her bouncing ass again as I grabbed her hips and slammed into her even harder. She made a choking noise as she clenched around me while orgasming.
I flipped her out of doggy style as I pressed my body against hers, and gave her a deep kiss while she came down from her climax. After a few more rounds, we lay in bed and actually spoke about the future. “Well, start small. You shouldn’t try to make broad sweeping changes to the store, maybe try to sell a few different items than what you do already.”
I was trying to lead her down a better path, one not focused on who she’d end up with in the future. Camilla is someone I married in some of my playthroughs just to spite Sven and Faendal, both only viewed her as a goal to strive for; neither of them really cared what she wanted or cared about. She could have been a great merchant or adventurer if she had just put her mind to either one. “Maybe you should travel the world, deepen your perspective while building self-reliance before heading back home. Just a suggestion.”
