Another night at the Vilemyr Inn, and another night of Marion's "true" stories. The drunkard was at it again with tall tales of the women he laid with, wooed by honeyed words or relentless pestering and begging. In the ex-mercenary's defense, he had quite the knowledge of the female form and then some, good "lessons" too. But then again, no one wants to know about the time he once allowed a particularly sharp-toothed Orc to "spit-polish his spear." No, not everyone wanted to hear about Marion's crackled and splinted "spear."

"Did I ever tell you about this one time in Orsinium where I-"

"Yes, Marion! You've boasted about your scarred prick many a-times, now please, stop talking about it!" replied Wilhelm, hands covering his forehead and visibly irritated.

"Well did I ever tell you about that time in Solitu-"

"Yes!" interrupted the vexed barkeep.

"What abo-"

"About that minx that wasn't really a minx but a glamored god-king from eons ago? Yes, we've already heard about it. And no, you didn't really 'nearly' skim your pecker on Molag Bal's pecker, because why in Oblivion would a Daedra be hiding out in a Cyrodilic brothel?!"

"Hey! Daedras have wandered among us men before. I would know, I once met Sangui-"

"You know what, Marion? Why don't you just tell us about the 'dame' you shagged last night?"

Cut off guard by the question, the sellsword could only freeze on the spot, sweat rolling down his brow. Only a stu-tuh-uttering 'Whaa-a-what?' left his lips.

'How does he know?' Marion thought to himself. Last he remembered, no one was there that night. 'And I told 'em to keep quiet about it. Why would-'

"What Marion, cat got your tongue? Snap out of it. Yes we all know, some of us heard the screams and moans. You weren't exactly very discreet. Must've been one hell of a party though, eh?" answered Wilhelm.

"Wilhelm.. please, not in front of everyone..." Marion pleaded.

"Too late Marion, and besides, this is too funny to pass up. HEY LYNLY, GATHER UP A TUNE FOR ME, EH? ABOUT MARION AND NARFI'S NIGHT ESCAPADE!"

"One serenade coming right up!" cheerfully answered the bard.

In an instant the entire world slowed around the Imperial, and the only thing he could do was watch and scream 'NOOOO!.'

"Ohhhh, there once was a drunkard named Marion the Airhead,

Who would only stop drinking until he was dead.

His chitter and chatter would never get him laid,

As repugnant and stenchful his breath was to dames.

But a night with a "dame" did Marion get,

When he mistook Narfi for a girl and then said:

"Oh you look so fine in that ragged skirt and crust on your rough neck,

so I think you and I should go to your home and lay in your bed".

And moans and groans did come from Narfi's wrecked home,

As the drunk stabbed his sword in the vagrant's butthole.

And the poor Marion was lustful no mo-ore,

As his boys and girls came raining down on the floor."

Laughter roared across the inn. It was no secret no more. Not only did the entire town now know that Marion slept with Narfi, whom he thought a really ugly minx, but they've immortalized it in poetry and song. Marion couldn't even react. So shocked he was that he sat at his stool, wide-eyed and dumbstruck, hands quivering and ale drizzling from his tankard; he wasn't reacting how everyone else thought he'd react.

The inn soon quieted down. They stared at Marion. Perplexed at his passiveness. 'He should be furious right now. He always is when we poke fun of him, right? We do this all the time and he's fine soon afterwards, what gives?' most of the patrons seemed to be asking themselves.

"Ma-Marion? Did-did we go too far? What's wrong?" Wilhelm nervously asked.

Marion dropped his tankard, making a loud thud. He did too, when he fell off his stool and onto the floor. He was still – shaking at first, but still afterwards. The entire inn watched confused, some worried.

"Something's wrong with Marion! Get him to his bed!"

Author's note: So I was playing Skyrim the other day, for the first time in centuries. Whilst doing so, I suddenly had the urge to make a parody of Ragnar the Red, Brokeback Mountain style, ish... So "That's a great idea," I thought, "Why not do it in that fanfic that's been sitting rotten and forgotten?". And so here I am - writing a story about how a braggart mistook a hobo for a woman and reamed "her" savagely.

Hope you enjoyed, comments and criticisms are welcomed.