Tavern Cat Tales

BY : C0yot372I
Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim
Dragon prints: 6067
Disclaimer: I do not own TES, Skyrim, or Bethesda. I do not aim nor will be making any money in the publishing of this fan-based work. Please support the official release.

Tavern Cat Tales, and Other Ramblings


Disclaimer: I do not own TES, TES: Skyrim, or Bethesda Studios.  Any and all names used are done so in a parodic manner or are used with the whole ‘Common Usage’ thing.  I do not aim to make any money off this story, nor will I.  Any depictions of persons living or dead are used so in either a fictitious manner, or is completely coincidental. 

Also, yes, sex will eventually happen.  Just not right now.  End of disclaimer and obligatory legal header.


It had been a very long day as the lone stranger approached The Bannered Mare, exhaustion clear as they walked.  No one in Whiterun knew him, save that he had arrived the previous night with one other and had sought out an audience with the Jarl.  Come the morning, and he had left with his companion to accompany Iraleth and a small contingent of guards.  And now, S’Tatima noted as she moved away from the window to serve another rowdy Nord mead, the stranger was coming to the inn. 

“More mead cat!” barked a drunken patron, his companions laughing along with the petty insult.  S’Tatima felt her tail tip twitch in annoyance as she gave them her best smile. 

“S’Tatima will be back with more mead, she promises!” she purred, giving the three drunks a quick bat of her eyes before turning about and walking over to the giants casks that held the golden liquid the Nords were so fond of drinking.  She had just filled a trio of mugs with the frothy brew when she heard the door to the inn open.  Silence gripped the dining hall as S’Tatima turned around to see the stranger from outside walk over to the counter. 

He wasn’t a Nord, that much was evident; he was too short and skinny to be one even if he had tried.  Secondly, his armor fit him loosely at best, and he kept his head down as he finally sat down with a sigh.  Pulling his hood down, he ran a hand through his short brown hair.  “Mead and stew… how much?” he asked her, his head still hung low. 

S’Tatima looked him over.  “S’Tatima thinks fifteen septims,” she stated coolly, watching as the stranger chortled in amusement. 

“The stew and the mead can’t be that good,” he replied.  “How about ten?” 

“And with tip, brings you back to fifteen, S’Tatima thinks,” the Khajiit smirked, her eyes and ears keeping track of everyone’s curious silence. 

“…twelve septims then,” the stranger said after a moment, putting the gold coins on the counter.  “With a tip, and payment for a bed for the night, if you have any.”  S’Tatima felt her spirits lift as she quickly counted out the gold pieces in her hand. 

“S’Tatima thinks you were a fellow khajiit in a past life,” she commented, putting the gold away.  “I will return with your meal soon.”  The stranger chuckled before he waved her off. 

“Don’t worry, I can wait,” he said, tiredly pulling out a small book and a stick of charcoal.  S’Tatima paid it no mind as she went about her business, and faster than she could tell, was back in front of the stranger, a hot bowl of rabbit stew in one hand and mug of mead in the other.  Seeing the meal clatter down in front of him, the stranger finally looked up and smiled warmly at S’Tatima.  “Thank you,” he told her, his forest green eyes meeting hers. 

S’Tatima felt a rush of feeling run through her as she beamed with pride.  “S’Tatima is happy to serve,” she answered, nodding to him.  “Khajiit has spoken with her master, and you do have a bed for the night that S’Tatima will show to you after you’ve had your fill.” 

The stranger nodded in thanks as he pulled out a pair of long sticks.  “I appreciate that,” he told her before inhaling the stew’s aroma in delight.  “Besides, my traveling companion can’t cook worth a damn, and I have a tendency to make food that is, shall we say, less than appealing.  It’s nice to have something home cooked for a change.”  S’Tatima purred in delight as she noted that most of the hall was now beginning to empty out, only the less drunken – or more stubborn – patrons remaining.  “So, what brings a Khajiit like you here to Whiterun?  I thought most of Skyrim was less than pleased that the caravans are even here,” he asked after a few bites of the soup. 

S’Tatima huffed as she looked at her guest coyly.  “Khajiit must have some secrets,” she commented, her tail flickering behind her amusement.  “And what of you?  You are no native here either.”  Her guest chuckled in response. 

“Well, even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me for fear I was mad,” he told her as he paused to sip at his mead.  “I can’t tell all my secrets now, we just met,” he added, grinning as he shot S’Tatima’s words back at her.  The Khajiit giggled as the guest smiled. 

“Well, S’Tatima hopes you enjoy the rest of your meal,” she said.  “When you’re done, Khajiit will show you your bed for the night.”  Her guest nodded as the Khajiit went to close down the inn for the night.  A good half hour later, she came back to see an empty bowl and mug, and a very satisfied human.  “S’Tatima thinks you may have judged my stew wrong then?” she asked with a feline smirk.  Her guest chuckled at her question. 

“Well, it is good, I’ll give you that,” he replied, setting his Septims on the counter.  “Perhaps after I’ve had more of Skyrim’s fare, I’ll be able to say with better certainty.  But, still the best meal I’ve had in the past few days,” he added, rolling his head across his shoulders.  “But, I am ready to see my bed for the evening, my good lady.”  He said that last part with a good natured quirk of an eyebrow, grinning. 

S’Tatima couldn’t help it.  She simply had to laugh at her guest’s antics.  “The Divines must have seen you as a Khajiit in a past life!” she declared, leading her charge to the back of the inn.  “No one here in Whiterun has yet to match S’Tatima’s wit so!”  She soon showed him the room in question, which was barely large enough to hold the tattered, hay-filled bed and a small wardrobe.  “And here is your room for the night,” she said, inviting him inside. 

The young man entered, looked around the room, and then back at her.  “Thank you,” he replied gratefully, smiling in thanks.  “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then?”  S’Tatima nodded before her eyes narrowed. 

“And what shall we call you, in case S’Tatima needs to wake you?” she asked, crossing her arms.  The human shrugged as he set his pack down by the bed. 

“…Gabe,” he replied after a moment.  “Most people eventually end up calling me that anyway.”  S’Tatima nodded. 

“Very well,” S’Tatima said, removing her hands from the dagger she had hidden inside her clothes.  “S’Tatima will see you perhaps in the morning?”  Gabe nodded. 

“Perhaps,” he told her, yawning finally with a hand over his mouth.  “I tend to sleep heavy, so you might have to boot me out of the bed,” he added.  The Khajiit nodded in understanding as she stepped out of the room.  “Well, good night,” Gabe said, nodding back to her. 

“To you as well,” she replied automatically as she closed the door.  The khajiit sighed as she stalked off into the main room of the inn to finish cleaning everything up.  It was not going to be comfortable, sleeping under the stairs since she had given her latest guest her own room, but S’Tatima had gone through worse.  After all, her first few months being here had been MUCH worse, and she was still here in good health.  Chuckling to herself, S’Tatima checked the fire pit before adding a few more logs in to keep it burning. 

After her chores were over, the tired Khajiit went to the stairs, picked up a sleeping roll, and laid down.  Moments later, she was asleep. 


Gabe watched as the khajiit closed the door to the room and sighed once he heard the lock click shut.  Sitting down on the bed, he went and unbuckled the unfamiliar straps of the armor he was wearing and set them down on the ground.  The heavy think of steel hitting wood was the only sound in the room for a while as Gabe removed every damn bit of the heavy metal off of him.  Sighing in relief as he kicked off the boots, he laid back in the bed and thought back to how it pretty much started. 

He wasn’t a native to Skyrim, or Tamriel, or Nirn in general.  Anyone could see that from a distance.  It was simply in the way he stood, walked, hell, just how he saw everything. 

He had simply been at home, about to play Skyrim when shit went wrong.  His 360 had started up like normal, he had selected the tile to play Skyrim, and then… the damn ring on the console changed color to freaking purple.  What Gabe should have done was just unplug the damned thing and call Microsoft support.  But nooooo, he just had to go over and try to eject the disc.  A sharp jolt of pain later, and he was slammed on his face into a snow bank as Stormcloaks and Imperial Legion fought each other. 

Gabe had always liked how Skyrim gradually introduced the player into the game with the Helgen section.  What had shocked him though was the fact that he had ended up next to his main avatar, a female khajiit he had named Ashana.  He knew, objectively of course, that Alduin would come in and wreck Helgen’s shit, and that Ashana would survive. 

That was the difference between seeing it on a TV screen, and actually being there when the shit decided to give no fucks and leave.  So, in the interest of self preservation, he had followed his Dragonborn character around, simply because she would actually be able to kill things while he… adjusted.  So far, he was only mostly incompetent with a sword, and surprisingly, he could throw one hell of a damn fireball when pressed.  Oh, and he could cook far better than his companion. 

Clearing his head of the sheer insanity of the past few days, Gabe leaned over and pulled out his journal, opening it back up to the page he was formerly on before he had had his meal.  Taking the charcoal stick, he went on and finished what he was working on for a few minutes (thank God his watch had more or less survived the trip with him, he would have likely gone nuts otherwise!) before closing the book again.  Yawning again, Gabe pulled back the furs and slid into bed, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. 


So, a little something different from what I've written in the past, but don't worry, I'll continue this as well as the others!  Another chapter for Lewd Ruby should be coming up soon, so don't worry my horny fans!  Anyway, read and review below please, and please, be kind and courteous!  If you want to flame, please, do it on the trolls.  It doesn't do much good for them, or so I'm told.

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