Author's note: this one is lengthier than most of the entries so far, as it was intended to be two sessions (12 and 13) but was compressed because of schedule constraints. Please be aware that the final video is lengthy and large (it depicts the entire opening scene of Shout Like a Virgin's main quest). I recommend downloading it rather than attempting to stream it. 

 

"Can I give you some advice?" Shayna asked as the trio finished breakfast. Monilee nodded assent and the doppelganger continued.

 

"Get something warm to wear before you leave. I saw you shivering at Helgen. High Hrothgar makes Helgen feel like the Ali'kr Desert."

 

Lydia nodded affirmatively, "She's right. To clime the seven thousand steps, you have to be properly equipped. And that's saying nothing of the mountain pass, as well."

 

"Tell me more about this pass," Monilee said with sudden interest.

 

Lydia explained that route to Ivarstead, the small town that was the gateway to High Hrothgar. It was the desmesne of Lord Barumutt, bastard brother of the Jarl of Riften. By all accounts a quiet and safe settlement, ruled with justice and temperance. But the road between there and Whiterun was infested with bandits - and worse things. Fortunately, a chilly mountain pass avoided the worst parts of the trail. Lydia had apparently assumed that Monilee was going to take this route, and that she was aware of it. Corrected in that misapprehension, she explained the way in some detail, letting Monilee develop a full understanding of the route.

 

"You're right, Shayna, I do need some warmer clothes." Tossing her twin a coin purse she said, "Why don't you purchase something appropriate while I make a few other preparations." 

 

With that, the three separated. Lydia went to speak with Adrianne Avenicci, the blacksmith, about mending Shayna's boots. Shayna visited Belethor's general goods in search of cold weather gear. And Monilee, after purchasing bread and cheese for trail rations, ducked into Arcadia's Cauldron to visit the barber who renter the upstairs loft. She emerged with her hair nicely braided... and also in possession of a mirror. She'd get to the bottom of this tattoo business next time she bathed.

 

From the Cauldron, she started filling the group's water bottles at one of the town fountains before she sensed a presence behind her. Turning, she saw her companions rejoining her. She also saw something else.

 

 

"Shayna," she groaned, "why do you have the same hairstyle as me?"

 

The doppelganger shrugged. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. Literally."

 

"Fine," Monilee scoffed. I think we're ready to go. Lets find ourselves this mountain pass.

 

The three set off, and as Monilee paid the gate toll she noticed how many coins remained in her pouch. Even after purchasing new clothing, engaging the services of the blacksmith, and spending several nights at the not-inexpensive inn, Monilee had far more than she'd posessed just a few days ago. If her fortunes considered to swell like this, soon she might need to take up Jarl Balgruuf on that offer of property for sale. 

 

As noon approached, Lydia stopped Monilee short just before a pair of roadside cairns. "Here, this is the way, follow this path." 

 

In the distance, an ancient bridge was just rising out of the fog. Monilee pointed, "What's that?"

 

"Valtheim Towers," Lydia intoned slowly. "In happier times the Whiterun Guard held it to protect our border. But now bandits hold lease. If you were just any traveler, they would let you through for a toll."

 

 

"But?" Monilee asked.

 

"But you have that sword," Lydia pointed to the fine longsword that Jarl Balgruuf had bestowed on Monilee, "and so they'll kill you on sight, just to make a point."

 

Shayna purred, "But you have the power of the Voice. You are the Dragonborn." Drawing closer, she added in a whisper, "And so I have the power of the Voice as well. We could drive them away. You'd be a heeeeeerrrrroooooo."

 

Monilee glowered. "I know all about what you think of heroes. And have you forgotten the letter from Mother Hamal? Lets speak with these Graybeards, and then make our way to Markarth. I need answers... about a great many things!"

 

Shayna pouted at the rebuke, but didn't challenge Monilee further. Donning their furs, the three started the ascent up into the snowy pass.

 

Calling their route of ascent a path was being generous. It was a dirt track, barely distinguishable with the snow on the ground. Yes, it was ascending and free of hazards... except the cold, that is. And even then the steep mountain cliffs on both sides did something to blunt its blow from the east and west. Thus they only shivered a little, and their rimey breath was only slightly visible. Nevertheless, the trio made no unnecessary stops, for they knew well that when nightfall came the chill would be more than furs alone could ward off. 

 

 

They actually lost the trail once, stopping short before a steep ravine and backtracking a ways before they finally picked out the dirt path once more. As the incline started to level out, a gentle snow fluttered down from above. Still benefitting from the sunlight's opposition to the winter cold, the partly slowed their pace for a moment; not quite resting, but at least reducing their exertion for a time. There was a cold beauty to this place, and Monilee wondered if this is what the seven thousand steps would be like. If so, it wouldn't be too bad. 

 

The cold was just starting to bite a little when the trail crested and started to descend. Mountain goats, clearly at home in the snow, watched them disinterestedly as they passed through ever-thinning snow cover and back into forest. Letting Lydia offer directions, they made their way quickly to a ford where they could safely cross the Black River. After the frozen desolation they'd just traversed, the vibrant forest and swift-moving river were a welcome sight to Monilee's eyes. At least until Lydia put a hand on her shoulder.

 

"Hold up," she said.

 

 

Lydia pointed downstream. "See that?"

 

Monilee followed Lydia's gesture and saw movement. At first she thought it was a bear, but it was too upright, too manlike for that. No, it was a troll.

 

"Two options," she said. "We cut around to the west and sneak by, or we fight." 

 

"There's three of us and one of it. And two of us are in steel armor. It's pointless to try and sneak around it. Let's do the locals a favor and put it down."

 

"Spoken like a true hero," Shayna scoffed. 

 

Monilee and Lydia drew their swords and charged, until from behind they heard a mighty roar.

 

"FUS... RO DAH!"

 

Monilee could literally see the power of the shout, like a fast moving thundercloud, barrel into the troll and send it flying into the unyielding stone of a cliff face. Monilee quickly finished it with three strokes of her sword, then she turned to Shayna, exasperated.

 

"Did you really have to do that?" 

 

Before Shayna could answer, Lydia too joined them, asking between catching her breath, "Amazing! Are you also... dragonborn?"

 

 

Shayna explained that there was more to her twinning of Monilee than just her hair. As Monilee's power grew, so would Shayna's. 

 

Lydia shook her head slowly, "Amazing," she said at length. 

 

Examining the Troll's cave in more detail, they came across the body of a fallen Stormcloak soldier - and a number of blood-drenched human bones. Clearly they weren't the first people to run afoul of this monster. They really had done a good deed. 

 

 

Now nearing Ivarstead at last, Lydia again stopped Monilee.

 

"Up there, look. That's the Throat of the World. That's where we're going."

 

Monilee craned her head up, following the mountain until she was in line with Lydia's finger, looking at an impossibly distant peak wreathed in clouds. Now it was Monilee's turn to mouth, "Amazing." 

 

Then she further digested its implications.

 

"I think we may need to rest the night at Ivarstead. I wouldn't want to be caught on that mountainside at night fall.

 

Both of her companions were quick to agree, and they forged forward towards Ivarstead.

 

 

When they finally reached Ivarstead, not all was well. Yes, its palisades still stood, but the few guards patrolled its streets and a huddled mass of poorly clothed men and women sheltered under a hastily raised wooden structure. As a thunderstorm began to roll over the town, Monilee asked what had befallen Ivarstead. The answer came quickly, and to her dismay. The night before, as the voices of the graybeards rang out for the first time in living memory, torrents of earth, rock, and snow had fallen from the mountain. Lord Balumutt's fortress, the Falcon's Nest, was largely destroyed and much of its inhabitants crushed to death. The few survivors managed to reach the outer part of town with nothing but the clothes on their backs. 

 

Monilee offered her sympathies but did not dare inform them of her role in their misfortune. She did promise to bring word of the disaster to the outside world when she departed, and for that they thanked her. 

 

Fortunately, the inn had survived wholly intact, and so the party settled down for an early dinner. They would rise early, and begin their ascent with the first morning light. As they enjoyed mead and a hot meal, a middle aged woman approached their table. 

 

 

Lydia raised an appreciative eyebrow. "A healer, you say? We could... pardon me, it's not my place to speak."

 

"No," said Monilee, "I can think of a dozen times in the last week where I could have used the services of a healer. What's your price?"

 

Edippa - they learned her name a moment later as she introduced herself - smile and waved a hand. "Oh, no, just give me a fair share of your treasures and that's enough. Oh, well, and one more thing. Just a small request. You and your sister are so cute. I will call you my daughters and you call me mother."

 

Lydia leaned back in her chair. "Ooookay," she exhaled.

 

Shayna chuckled. "Sure, why not? I can think of harder prices to pay... mother." 

 

Monilee was more inclined to take Lydia's route, but Shayna was right. Indulging a little eccentricity was a small price to pay for the services of a skilled healer."

 

So she smiled and said, "Yes, mother. Now come, join us. Tell us about yourself."

 

Edippa took the fourth seat at the table. "Sorry, she said, it's a secret."

 

"That's rich," Lydia opined. Monilee noted the amulet of Dibella around Edippa's neck, however, and the heavy burnished bronze mace at her belt. Dwarven make, if Monilee was right.

 

"Are you from Markarth... mother?" she asked, putting two plus two.

 

"Oh, you girls are unraveling my secrets already. Yes, I'm from Markarth, but truly for now I can't tell you more. I'm sorry, but I'm sworn to secrecy."

 

Grudgingly they accepted that and returned to their meal. At length, they paid for a private room and a large jug of wine before rewarding themselves for their effort with a fresh baked pie. It was so nice to finally have time to just relax and not look over their shoulder for once. She felt a pang of pity for the refugees from the castle, but she also reminded herself that this is Skyrim. It isn't a place for pity. 

 

Monilee and Shayna settled down for the night in their room along with Edippa, while Lydia - at her insistence - set watch outside the door, leaning back comfortably on a chair. When the door was closed and the three had settled down, Edippa spoke.

 

"Daughters, can you help me with a small problem?"

 

Monilee, lubricated with several bottles of mead and already in a generous mood towards her new companion instantly responded, "Of course, what."

 

"My chest is so tight with milk," Edippa said like it was the most natural thing in the world, "Could you, ah, milk me?"

 

Monilee wasn't sure what to say, so Shayna did it for her. "Of course, mother, we'll both help you," as she pulled Monilee with her towards the healer.

 

"Oh, Dibella bless you," Edippa said, "please get comfortable and drink right from the source." 

 

That proved to be be a bizarrely infantilizing experience. A tall Nord, Edippa's bust was just about in line with Monilee's nose, so she and her doppleganger had to stand look up and rise slightly on their toes to reach the proferred nipples. Edippa hadn't been lying - her breasts were tight and quickly released blood-hot liquid into Monilee's mouth. Not like the cow's or sheep's milk she was accustomed to, this was sweet and nutty. They continued for a time as Edippa softly sighed, like someone receiving a fine massage. It was only as they finished that Monilee fully considered what a strange episode had just unfolded. By the end, they'd sunk to the furs on the bedroom floor and now the three lay together in a languid embrace. 

 

"Now that we know each other so intimately, my daughters, let's not be shy... shall we be lovers?"

 

"Mmm," purred Shayna, "I like that idea."

 

At that moment, Monilee thought of something. Undressing, she fetched out her mirror and looked at her rear. Yes, there it was, glowing a dim red. "Virgin" stamped on her rear. 

 

"Shayna," Monilee ordered, "show me your ass."

 

"Oho," Shayna laughed, "Someone's getting frisky. Is that milk filling you with energy?"

 

"I want to see if you have the tattoo."

 

Somewhat disappointed, Shayna complied. Curiously, as perfect a copy of Monilee Shayna was, in this one detail she was distinct. Shayna didn't have the tattoo.

 

"You don't have it," she said, stating the obvious.

 

Shayna shrugged, "Perhaps whatever power is guiding your hand has decided that her mark is for you alone."

 

Perhaps, Monilee silently conceded. She and Edippa offered their prayers to Dibella and then the three of them fell into a deep, restful sleep.

 

By morning, the rain had stopped. Monilee and her party wasted little time in starting their ascent up the seven thousand steps, stopping only to read the inscriptions on the small shrines that marked the stages of the ascent. The told a story of a time when dragons ruled the world with the power of their voices, and how men rose up, took their power, and overthrew them. Monilee could understand how the heritors of this legend would be very interested indeed in someone who could steal the soul of a dragon. 

 

 

Another unexpected Dibella statue greeted them part way up the mountain. Monilee hoped this was a sign that the divine was not displeased at her choice to honor the Jarl's command to seek the Graybeards. Though she realized, it might also be a warning that her actions had not gone unnoticed. She prayed it was the former. Indeed, as the ascent continued Monilee discovered a Dibella statue watching over each of the mountain shrines. The divine was clearly paying very close attention to Monilee's actions here. Just when she started to really worry about this, the ancient fortress of High Hrothgar came into view... along with one final Dibella statue. And at its feet lay a chest; searching within, Monilee found a set of lightweight but finely crafted chain mail. Was it a gift? With respect she claimed it, intent on having it fitted to her when she next crossed paths with a blacksmith. 

 

At last, she entered High Hrothgar. The doors were unlocked, and she took a moment in the antechamber to warm herself before braziers of hot coals before throwing back her fur hood and striding into the main hall. Men awaited. Men with gray beard and gray robes. They waited and watched as Monilee approached. Their eyes probed deep into her. Looking for weakness? Looking for proof of the Dragon Soul within her? To this they offered no clue, standing in silence. 

 

Silence that finally broke when one approached. 

 

 

"I am answering your summons," Monilee responded.

 

The graybeared seemed to reserve some skepticism, promising to test Monilee's claim to the title of dragonborn. 

 

"Show us, Dragonborn," he said, "Let us taste of your voice."

 

Monilee paused, remembering the letter from Mother Hamal. The prophetic dream visited on the Sybil.

 

Unhelpfully, Shayna offered, "I can do it if you'd like."

 

Monilee cut her short. "No, you saw the statues. Dibella is with us. Come, Graybeard, and taste."

 

"FUS"

 

And then, it was like she was in two places at the same time. The Graybeards welcomed her, told her secrets in hushed voices, promised to train her. But also a ghostly woman bound her, chained her, pierced her body, and set her on a task. Her mind struggled to comprehend what was happening. Was she free? Was she chained? No, now she was free from her bondage... but the piercings and bindings remained. She staggered forward, falling to the ground, and feeling more power yet enter her soul. Perhaps to the Graybeards, such an occurrence was nothing out of the ordinary, perhaps their isolation immured them any shock or surprise. Perhaps... perhaps... and then she swooned, her last sight before consciousness fled being Lydia attempting to push past the warding hands of a Graybeard to reach her fallen Thane.

 

 

 

Test Report

Observed another instance of "fondle theyself" activating during a sexlab scene. It appeared to correspond with the vanilla Sexlab orgasm firing (at the transition between stages 3 and 4 of the lesbian breastfeeding animation). Continuing to monitor for additional instances to try and nail down a pattern. 

 

Observed an interesting mod synergy event when a spontaneous orgasm occured while Monilee was lying in bed using the sleep menu (via the Go To Bed mod). The spontaneous orgasm worked seamlessly and did not break or interfere with the sleep menu. This is good from a compatibility standpoint.

 

Summoned Nocturnal with first should during Graybeard introductory sequence. Some unvoiced Nocturnal dialogue was lost during Graybeard narration/subtitles, but most of the dialogue was visible and the scripted sequence completed without any errors or sticking points.