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Post by webster52402 on Jul 17, 2008 18:19:12 GMT
Vantustius walked cheerfully towards the Mage's Guild, a small bag of Marshmallow held in his hand. After selling this, he would be able to go and get some food, food, food! Ah, he was looking forward to a nice, big meal, something that he could really get his teeth into. Maybe some steak, that would be good... He licked his lips, grinning happily to the people that he passed, that skirted away from him, trying to avoid the dirt and sand-covered young Imperial.
He took pause, though, when he saw a strange sight: A small group of people, all gathered around a single door. But it wasn't the people themselves that was interesting, it was what was happening around them. There was the Altmer, standing with a fireball held between his hands, looking as though he had been freezing a moment before. There was a tall Nord, that looked as though he had been buried in the snow for a few days he was so pale, and indeed, the area around him was covered in a sheen of ice, gleaming brightly in the bright Anvil sun.
Vantustius couldn't help but stare, as a small Breton girl walked right past them, and was greeted at the door by a strong looking Redguard woman. What in the world was that place? It was a manor of some sort, obviously, but it was attached to an inn... Somehow, he felt that he should know it. He raised a hand instinctively to his cheek, rubbing at the smear of dirt there with an equally dirty hand, only succeeding in smearing it more. It looked like the young man was wearing a coat of war paint.
He didn't approach, simply stood back to watch. This was quite interesting...
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Post by Vicorva on Jul 17, 2008 18:20:38 GMT
Zohara, looking at this man, knew he was an old blood. He had the demeanor of one who was living with a great weight on his shoulders- which all old bloods seemed to have- and the uncontrolled ice that surrounded him seemed like no magic on Tamriel. And that too, usually marked an Old Blood.
She realised her Guild might get completely frozen over if his powers spiked. He might even die if such a thing happened: uncontrolled Old Blood powers usually ended such ways, as far as she knew. He'd need training fast.
"I don't mind about the door," she said patiently. "It'll melt. But I need you to come inside and-" she paused, struggling for inspiration. Meditation was usually a good way to calm down powers, and to her practical mind, he should be focusing his mind on something that repelled ice: fire might do. "I need you to completely clear your mind and focus on one thing for me: imagine a fire, and hold it in your head for as long as you can. My hoping is that it might contain the spike in your power, I don't know." She shrugged. "I'd have to know more about your bloodline."
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Nika had gone to the room Zohara had specified, and gasped as she opened one of the double doors into a massive libarary. This was a bard's dream... shelves stacked to a high cieling, all aruond the walls, filled with books, as well as loads of tables in the middle stacked high. There were comfortable sofas and chairs scattered around the place as well.
Managing to control her glee was hard. She felt like it wanted to explode out of her. Any misgivings at joining this Guild were gone. She really wanted to be there.
SHe found the ledger on a lone stand and signed her name in it, leaving the other two categories, reading 'Old Blood/New Blood' and 'Bloodline' blank, since she didn't know what they were.
And then she decided to explore the library.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 17, 2008 18:33:32 GMT
Inwardly Glaen cringed, but outwardly he simply nodded to the woman. His instinct warned him this wasn't a good idea, but then again; How much about his uniqueness did he really know? She had to know more than him.
And so, Glaen focused upon the fire he had seen in the Altmer's palm a moment ago. With it came a wave of feelings; feeling of heat, feeling of fright, of pain, of a need to get cold. Around him the air condensed further, his hair, toes, and fingers icing over. Glaen opened his eyes and looked at his hand, trying to move his fingers. They wouldn't.
"I... think it reacts to heat right now... I wasn't like this back in Skyrim... it was less prominent. I think... think that coming inside might help more." He explained, and tried again to wiggle his fingers.
And failed. Dammit!
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Post by Vrek on Jul 17, 2008 18:40:48 GMT
Jarrod waved to the merchant he left behind, the cart being unloaded at the city gate by a few laborers. He strode into the city, in one hand, his old spear, which he held like a walking stick, in the other was a pack which held his old outfit, some food, and a few coins. On his back was his saber, bobbing back and forth with each movement. Everything he owned here and with him.
The ex-Bandit approached a rather bored guard, and showed him the advertisement of the Birthright Guild. The guard immediately became a little suspicious, as Jarrod could tell by the echo, but the guard pointed him down the street anyways.
Following the directions he'd received, Jarrod turned down the streets, passing by a few people on the way. It still felt strange whenever he walked through cities, the constant fluttering of emotions from everyone he passed. Almost instinctively he touched his nose, remembering the first time he walked through a larger city. He made another turn, and in the distance, saw what had to be the Manor. He sped up to a jog, but stopped quickly, and nearly doubled over as he passed a rather dirty man, about his age. He was hungry. Very hungry.
With a shaking hand, he reached into his pack and pulled out the first food tiem he could feel: an apple. Without a word he pressed the fruit into the man's chest, before jogging away, trying to get out of the aura of the man. The hunger subsided, and Jarrod fell to his rump against a tree, exhausted. Yet another reason he disliked cities. Without another word to the man, he got up and started jogging to the Manor again.
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Post by webster52402 on Jul 17, 2008 19:00:44 GMT
Vantustius continued to watch the scene that was unfolding in front of the manor, jumping in surprise when he saw the ice suddenly pick up, thickening visibly even from where Vantustius was standing. What in the world was going on? Strange events just seemed to surround this place, no matter what way you looked at it.
This was seemingly proved to him, as though the Gods liked to give him a minor encore performance, as a man began to jog past him. Nothing really out of place, until the man suddenly doubled over, as though something had just slugged him in the stomach. Vantustius looked confused, only to have the man slowly reach back, and produce an apple from his pack. Thinking the man was going to eat it, he eyed the man jealously. He was so hungry, what he wouldn't give to...
The man pressed the apple into Vantustius' chest, and quickly began to jog away again. Startled, Vantustius nearly dropped the apple, but he managed to hold onto it, looking with agape jaw after the man. How had he known that he was hungry? Perhaps it had just been a small kindness, but he was certainly thankful for it... And him doubling over, like he had suddenly felt the pangs himself, that had been strange...
But, then the shine of the apple attracted his gaze again.
FOOD! he screamed in his mind, as he bit hungrily into the apple, ignoring the juices that ran down his chin. What a lovely man.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Jul 17, 2008 19:05:06 GMT
Alderin cursed bitterly to himself as the air around the Nord grew unbearably frigid. He let the flame between his two hands die as he rushed away from the door to the manor, electing that speaking to the Redguard woman could wait until the Nordic Snowman had finished trying to freeze over the entire city.
As he looked out from the manor, though, he noticed two other figures nearby, another Imperial, about the same age as the Nord by the looks of it, and a middle aged Redguard. Were they all Old Bloods?
"You might want to wait until he's done up there," Alderin explained to the Redguard that was moving towards the manor's entrance. "Damned oaf's gonna turn this place into Dawnstar if he isn't careful."
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 17, 2008 19:25:34 GMT
"Hm?" Count Saragos turned to look apprehensively at the Altmer that had come up to him.
"Oh, believe me, Dawnstar is a lovely place, when the weather's right. I would not recommend the Dragontail Mountains during that time, however, even if you are seeking a cold place. But I will assume that you were simply making an euphemism for something regarding a large man that I do not quite understand at this time, so I will leave it at that." He cocked his head to the side. "Are you from this new upstart Guild, by any chance?" He politely asked the Altmer with curiosity.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Jul 17, 2008 20:18:12 GMT
Alderin gazed blankly back at the Redguard, momentarily struck dumb by the man's...rather elaborate response. "Uh, yeah, no..." he replied with slight reservation in his voice, keeping his eyes trained on the man. "But I've heard things about it, and it...sounds like it might make a good place to set up a lab..."
The Altmer paused for a moment, considering his next move. The Redguard seemed much more formal than any of the others he'd encountered so far, which was surprising from a race of adrenaline junkies. Still, if he was going to be surrounded by Humans during his time there, and it looked like he was going to be, it wouldn't hurt to know a few of them.
"I'm Alderin Megdar, Arcane Engineer," he introduced with a haughty tone, nodding at the Redguard. "And you are?"
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Post by Vicorva on Jul 17, 2008 21:21:38 GMT
"Then please, come inside..." Zohara told him, stepping aside. She was surprised that, if he thought it would help, he had not done so already. She certainly would have.
Perhaps he is a polite man... she thought. Or perhaps just stupid. I find it hard to tell the difference sometimes. But whatever he was, he seemed decent enough. No reason not to welcome him with open arms into the Guild.
Thinking of open arms, she looked him up and down discreetly while he was looking away. Well enough as Nord-men go, I suppose... she thought. But the chill makes him an unsuitable partner.
Admittedly, most of Zohara's partners had been unsuitable. And extremely temporary. Had she known Alderin's opinion of Redguards, she might have been forced to agree. Though she didn't consider herself an 'adrenaline junkie', her life seemed to be being forced to one act of pure physicality to the next. All she could think was that she was just a much more passionate being than most, that she had loved and warred so much.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 17, 2008 21:39:25 GMT
Glaen nodded appreciatively as she stood aside to allow him in. He desperately wanted inside, but he wasn't about to bowl over the woman to get in.
Once he stepped inside, though, the chill around him began to dissipate. It was like, once he was outside of the sunlight and the heat, the crazed surges of power were sated. The ice around the door began to crack, the heat causing it to slowly melt. On the floor around him there was only a half a foot radius of ice, compared to the foot or so from before. Indeed, the chill of the air around him had receded to but a few inches from his body, and if one were to touch him he would be a chilled glass of water.
Which was MUCH better than the bone-chill he was outside. With a comforting sigh the Nord moved away from the door to allow others in, and punched his hands together repeatedly. Ice cracked and fell away, and he flexed his amazingly unaffected fingers before reaching for his shortsword. "This is much better." He mused, and began to wiggle the blade in the sheath. A series of cracks and falling ice shards later, and he was able to draw his blade, and then sheath it again. He turned to Zohara, the expression on his face calm but in his eyes, grateful.
"This does not usually happen. And it is quite annoying. But it is only another reason why I came here. I am Glaen Frost-Beard." He introduced himself, was about to stretch his hand to shake, but then let the hand fall back to his side before it even fully stretched out.
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Post by Vicorva on Jul 17, 2008 21:53:36 GMT
Zohara found herself feeling sorry for the man, as he clearly intended to shake her hand and then thought better about it. She wondered what it would be like to be unable to touch others without fear of freezing them. What would it feel like?
Remembering her own reaction to his appearance, she realised it couldn't be pleasant to have people wanting to keep their distance. Where was the fire and excitement in his life? Where were the friendships and relationships and even meaningless flings? She found it hard to comprehend, though being not a deep thinker she found it hard to think any deeper than that.
She would help him to be treated like a person. Even when his power was at its worst. She was tough: she could handle it. She reached out and took his hand, shaking it firmly. Her hand froze over as she did so, but it was already heavily calloused, scarred, and fairly numb to pain, and although it hurt a hell of a lot she didn't show it.
She released his hand, a crackling sound as she removed her hand from his, shattering the ice. She dropped her hand to her side and flexed her fingers: the already melting ice cracked and flaked off. She smiled at Glaen. "Well met, Glaen Frost-Beard, and welcome to the Birthright Guild. I'll do whatever I can for you."
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Post by Vrek on Jul 17, 2008 22:08:45 GMT
Jarrod stepped up the small stairs onto the deck of the Manor, taking one last look at the hungry man he passed by, not but a few moments ago. He pitied him, no one should be that hungry. But there was nothing he could do, at least not right now. He only had a little bit of food and coin, and he didn't know how his time in Anvil would turn out. He, for on, could not see the future.
He stepped through a small puddle and peeked in the open door. There was a Redguard and Nord shaking hands, and an unmistakable chill in the air. Politely, he stood back, to allow them to finish their introductions to eachother. While waiting, he leaned his spear against the wall next to him, as to look less hostile then he should. But his fingers wouldn't let go. Pulling it back, he took a look at his hand. Between his fingers was growing a thin layer of ice. Not realizing that the ice should have hurt more then it did, which was only minor, hardly noticeable. He pried the spear from his frozen hand, then leaned it against the wall as he intended, then looked up back at the pair.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 17, 2008 22:10:16 GMT
She actually reached out and took the hand before he could retract it fully. She actually shook his hand, despite the coolness and the reaction his body gave to the warmth of her touch. It had frozen her hand over, but she seemed not to care and shook off the ice like it was nothing.
To Glaen, though, it was far from nothing. Most of his family, and his friends in his tribe, had refused to touch him without being adequately covered for a trek in the snow. Glaen couldn't help it; the corner of his mouth curled into a small smile.
"If you could direct me in ways to join, and where I can go for rooms and meals, I would get on my way and let you handle this lovely line of people." He gestured slowly towards the people outside.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 19, 2008 2:56:55 GMT
Saragos smiled and bowed respectfully to the Altmer, holding back his cloak with one hand as he did. "I am Count Saragos, of the island of Saragos, which lies barely eight leagues from Anvil. It is a pleasure to meet you, although the term 'Arcane Engineer' is unfamiliar to me. But I will ask you about this at a later date. This new Guild here has captured my interest as well, I'm interested in the claims of the founder. Zohara, I believe her name is."
He made a gesture with his hand attempting to the Altmer to follow him, and he started off again toward the Manor. "An apparently large man's attempts to freeze the city over are no excuse to leave a promising opportunity behind. Come, let us see what this Guild has to offer!"
Not looking to see whether Alderin followed or not, Saragos proceeded to the front door of the Manor. The door was open, and three people stood around it. "Looks as though we've come at a busy time," he mused to himself. As he ascended the small set of stairs leading up to the door, he leaned forward and looked at the spear-wielding Redguard. "I'm sorry, have we come at a bad time?"
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Post by Vrek on Jul 19, 2008 5:00:56 GMT
Jarrod looked at his fingers casually, studying the frost growing over them. It still looked a bit colder then it felt, which seemed a bit odd. He flexed his hand into a fist and then back to an open palm, and a thin casing of ice fell to the ground.
He looked up when he suddenly felt the warm feelings he had change to a softer one, more apolegectic, perhaps a tiny bit of anxiety came into him. "I'm sorry, have we come at a bad time?" A more posh looking man asked him.
"I- u-uh, no, not at all." Jarrod answered, shaking his head side to side. The movement caused a few bits of ice on his hair and ears to shift, and press against his skin a bit harder. This alerted him to an unexpected cold on his ears, much more so then a few seconds ago. He slapped his hands against his ears, and rubbed them furiously, while sidestepping around the Nobleman Redguard, away from the sudden feeling of cold. "You can go before me, a-after they're done. It's a-alright." This time his stutter came from chattering teeth rather then surprise or anxiety. "S'not important a-as what you m-might want."
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