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Post by FC4 on Jul 22, 2008 22:23:26 GMT
"I suppose it does." Glaen replied coolly, his expression rather downhearted. "Of course... that would also explain why living with it was easier in Skyrim. Everything's already frozen up there." He explained, though it almost sounded like he was thinking aloud.
But I was still different. Friends froze but I... I remained cool. Even in Skyrim, he was an oddity, and life was different for him. He briefly considered holding out his hand to shake, but this woman might not do what Zohara had done... and likely would not appreciate the cold she would receive from the action.
Instead he simply left his arms at his sides. "I had to ask someone to read this poster for me to get here..." He held out the parchment to show her, which was still frozen in his hand. "I never had to read before. I thank you for the help, miss....?" It was a subtle question for her name. He could at least get that much of social interaction without chilling the small woman.
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Post by webster52402 on Jul 22, 2008 23:35:09 GMT
OOC: He isn't crazy. Just very chirrupy and cheerful. He's very innocent, though. IC: Vantustius nodded, as he excitedly bounced his way down the hall, towards the library. "OK!" He said cheerfully, before pausing. Which way was the library? Ah well, if he walked on, he might find it. Luckily for him, he was actually right this time, as he bounded through the doors with the excitement of a puppy running through the park. He noticed the man that had earlier been freezing everyone around, and the small woman that had came to the manor shortly after, but he ignored them, turning instead to the ledger that he was to sign his name in. "V-A-N-T..." He sounded out the letters as he wrote them, his tongue poking comically from the side of his mouth as he wrote his name letter by letter, in a slanting, yet very artful calligraphy. From the look on his face, it looked like this required a lot of concentration, though when he finally finished, it vanished immediately. "O-O-D! Done!" He chirruped happily, as he laid the quill down with a flourish, ignoring the blot of ink that had dripped from it to stain the bottom of the page. Wheeling on his heel, he reached a hand out to Glaen's outstretched hand, ignoring the parchment as though he had extended his hand purely because he knew that Vantustius would be coming, and wanted to shake his hand. "Hi-YOW!" Vantustius began, before his hand actually made contact with the Nord's skin. Immediately, cold flooded through him, causing goosebumps to raise up on his arms and his hand to begin to freeze over, a small layer of ice beginning to worm its way over his hand. Jumping back, Vantustius nearly knocked the ledger off of the pedestal, shaking his hand wildly as though it would warm it up quicker. "Jeez! Your hand is COLD!" He said, raising it to his hand and cupping it there, to blow into it as though he were in the middle of the coldest winter. His eyes bounced back and forth between them, though he showed no nervousness. Lord knew, they should have been expecting a dirt-smeared young Imperial with little tact or subtlety to come bouncing up to them at a moment's notice.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 23, 2008 0:20:25 GMT
Glaen's parchment shattered to pieces as an Imperial suddenly grabbed his hand, and then made loud exclamations as he bounced around and shook his now chilling appendage. As Glaen watched his neutrality became more of a look of weariness, and guilt.
The parchment was in broken pieces of ice on the floor, and began to melt into separate, perfectly cut portions of paper rather than torn shreds. He had destroyed a poster, hurt someone, required the assistance of another just to join the guild, and was powerless in this literate world. He found himself more of an outcast in that one moment than at any other time in his life, and his eyes glittered with frozen tears though his mouth remained a firm line.
"I better go pick myself a room." He said softly, turning away without picking up the broken poster and walking out of the library without a second glance. All he wanted to do was get away until his power had diminished enough to not harm people. But that would likely never happen.
The decision to go upstairs or down was an easy one. He was a nomad; he lived roughly all his life so did not need finery. But he also did not want to destroy the finery through his power. So he opened the door to the basement and descended, deciding already that he would take the last room furthest from the stairs so no one would have to pass by him.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Jul 24, 2008 3:51:57 GMT
Alderin looked up at the commotion going on in the library, from the rather upstart young Imperial bounding around like a Khajiit on moon sugar, to the Nord he'd met earlier, managing to freeze and break up a small piece of parchment. Fortunately, the Nord left soon afterwards, leaving the young Breton woman from earlier and the Imperial alone in the library.
"We'd better get that lummox house trained," Alderin commented to the two humans as he walked into the library, towards the ledger, grabbing the quill and signing his name without difficulty. "Damn idiot's gonna get us all killed, walking around freezing things solid." He glanced back at the rather excitable Imperial as he set the quill back down, finished with it. "And why the hell don't you take a sedative or something!? You a skooma eater or something?" he asked accusatively.
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Post by webster52402 on Jul 24, 2008 15:36:55 GMT
Vantustius looked after the Nord man as he left, his mood changing on a dime. "Aww... I didn't want to make Frosty man sad..." Vantustius said miserably, unaware just how close he had actually come to the man's name. All that he had known was that he had accidentally made the guy depressed, and as a result, Vantustius was depressed too. He preferred it when people were happy. Vantustius had been taught that from the time he started growing up, that the world was always a better place when you were smiling. So, Vantustius was always smiling!
He practically jumped out of his skin when Alderin suddenly yelled at him accusingly. With his mood again switching on a dime, Vantustius leaped behind the Breton woman, though he was actually taller than her, and acted like he couldn't be seen behind her. "What!?! Skooma? No! Nasty stuff, I would never!" He said defensively, his eyes wide. Why did everyone always avoid him like he did do drugs? Was it that bad to be a happy person? "I just like smiling. Don't be angry..." He explained miserably, wringing his hands and shifting his weight from one foot to the other, like a child that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A child that would have left a lot of dirt and sand on the cookies, but nonetheless.
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Post by Vicorva on Sept 1, 2008 11:01:52 GMT
"Nika..." she said quietly as Glaen left- too quietly for someone right next to her to hear, let alone someone leaving. She had always found it hard to part with her name, even to the Thieves' Guild- and in the new situation, doubly so.
The bouncy imperial frolicked around her and the altmer walked in. "We'd better get that lummox house trained," he commented as he walked in. The complete lack of tact startled a laugh from Nika, although she had to admit, the excitable imperial was sort of cute.
The altmer's next words were pretty close to what she was wondering herself, but found herself saying, "Hey, butt out, he's just happy. You don't meet too many happy people." SHe found it hard not to defend people who were getting picked on, and although she liked the altmer- his grouchiness was very amusing- she also found it hard not to put him in his place.
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Post by FC4 on Sept 2, 2008 20:35:57 GMT
Glaen had not heard the woman's name before the incident came in which he decided to leave the room, but it wasn't on his mind right now. What was on his mind was the chilled, snowy look to the air above each stone step, the only sign of the cold grip he had on the stone below his feet. Thankfully, being solid and not holding onto any liquid meant he could not freeze it.
Turning away from the stairs he walked down the hallway of the basement, past various rooms; all of which he ignored. It was only when he reached a wall, and could go no further, that he turned to one of the room doors and opened it.
As he had hoped it was not very fancy, but it was also far more lavish than he would have liked right now. With a plain bed in one corner, a dresser across from it, a chest at the foot of the bed, and a table and chair in the general center of the floor space it was nothing excessive.
But for a man who managed to destroy everything he touched and had lived in the tribal wilds all his life, it was above and beyond. Sighing, he moved to the table and set down his wineskin, elmwood bow, and quiver, then adding his sword and dagger beside those.
Interestingly enough, there was a pitcher of water across the table from him that had yet to freeze, and the flowers in the vase at the center were still alive. Glaen showed no external reaction to this, but inside he was joyous. It meant the power was subsiding.
Moving to the bed, he removed all the sheets, noting they frosted slightly as he touched them, but did not freeze. Again containing his joy within he simply tossed the unneeded linens into one corner of the room, followed by the pillow, and laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Sept 3, 2008 22:33:15 GMT
Alderin spun around quickly on one heel, his bright cyan eyes quickly darting towards the young girl who'd reprimanded him. And young was an understatement; gauging from the Breton's features, he would have hardly put her at twenty years. Which, given the long lifespan of his own race, equated in Alderin's eyes to an upstart young punk.
"There's a reason you don't see too many happy people," he shot back, his eyes focused solely on the woman. "It's because people like him go bouncing around through life, completely oblivious to the world around them. That is, until something bad happens." He turned around to face the Imperial once again. "And when there's guts and little pieces of brain all smeared across the wall, who do you think people turn to? People like me!"
Alderin turned to face the Breton once more, a fraction of his initial frustration now vented. "So you're right, you don't see too many happy people, because natural selection won't let them live that long. Right along with would-be heroes and people naturally inclined to drink themselves stupid."
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Post by webster52402 on Sept 3, 2008 22:40:21 GMT
Vantustius slowly shifted from foot to foot, looking dejected. He didn't know what he had done to make this man so ANGRY. He wanted everyone around him to have the same happiness that he felt, and instead it was the very fact that he was happy that had made the guy suddenly round on him like he was doing the world some kind of great injustice by being bubbly. He wrung his hands in front of him, thinking hard. There had to be SOMETHING that he could say...
"Um... But... If you make a person happy, they won't NEED to hurt anyone..." He pointed out, his tongue again starting to poke out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as he thought on what he was going to say. "If you go around yelling at people, making them angry, then won't they be more inclined to spread YOUR brains and blood on the wall? I haven't seen a happy person have a fit of rage before." He pondered for a moment, before looking up and beaming right at Alderin.
"So, the only natural thing is to be happy, right? Happiness cannot support anger!" He said triumphantly, as though this naive, yet still somehow wise point of view could defeat anything that the man could possibly say next.
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Post by Vicorva on Sept 3, 2008 22:55:54 GMT
Nika gazed at Alderin calmly for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. Letting loose a blistering tirade at him was her natural urge, but she wanted to get under his skin more than that would. So she replied calmly, "Wasn't that a clever reply? You're actually quite funny, despite the spittle flying from you mouth." And she smiled sweetly at him.
The logic in Vantastius' reply surprised Nika, and she found herself liking the philosophical oddball. "I see you don't need looking after," she told him. "I reckon you could take our golden-skinned 'pal' here in a fight." She gave a ridiculously girly wave to Alderin, wiggling her fingers in his direction.
"Toodle-loo," she sang, and walked out brightly. Once out of the library she burst into laughter. The imperial had certainly showed him.
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adeth
Novice
Adeth of Fatum Semitaem
Posts: 31
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Post by adeth on Sept 5, 2008 8:42:02 GMT
(Let's see how did it go... ) Adeth had gotten through the city walls and was now running down the street with his other hand hiding the mask inside his cloak. To people around him it'd have looked like an ordinary man late from work or something else. But the truth was he was just trying to escape from his chaser. Adeth could feel the eyes in the back of his head. Blood red, hungry, hateful and amused. He could almost hear the evil laughter. There was a voice though, in his head telling him to find a safe place. In Benirus manor. It was his own thought. When he got to the house he opened the door and slammed it shut behind him and then leaning heavily onto it in relief. He felt like the one chasing him wouldn't find him here. No eyes to see him. No one out to kill him. With a sigh he opened his eyes and looked at the manor. There were people inside. 'Excuse me but... where am i exactly?' Adeth asked breathing heavily. He looked exhausted. (is this good?)
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Post by DarkNova50 on Sept 5, 2008 21:01:42 GMT
Alderin's eyes bulged with frustration as he glared at Vantustius, disbelief at the man's unflinching naivety coursing through his veins. How did somebody like that manage to live this long!?
The feeling of irritation only became worse when the Breton girl nearby let loose a short string of particularly biting remarks, and Alderin didn't even bother turning around when she left the room. Instead, his eyes remained focused solely on the Imperial before him.
"By the gods!" he screamed, fingers locked in an oddly gnarled position beore him. "That's not how it...how can you even..." Feeling as though his brain was about to explode in the vivid fashion he'd described earlier, his eyes began to roll back in his head. "I'm just so filled with rage right now!"
The raging Altmer was cut short when another stranger, another Imperial, came barging in through the front door to the manor, dressed like some kind of vagabond or another. The Elf turned quickly to face this new individual, the agitation from the other Imperial still clearly evident. "Who the hell are you supposed to be!?" he roared at the newcomer, disregarding his question entirely.
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Post by webster52402 on Sept 5, 2008 21:54:20 GMT
Vantustius waited as the man let a moment of silence go, his fist held up in front of him, as though he had just completed a 'victory' pump and wanted to hold it as long as possible. That, or that he was about to declare something, and was just waiting for the right moment. Instead, the Altmer just sat there and stared at him for the longest time.
The sudden eruption of his words, though, startled Vantustius bad enough that he jumped instinctively backwards, as though he were trying to avoid a blow. Instead, he just ranted for a few moments, before wheeling on the newcomer like he had just done something bad himself, despite having just arrived. So, Vantustius did the only wise thing here...
He beat a hasty retreat. Taking the Breton girl earlier's way out, he slipped out of the door, closing it behind him as softly as he could so that he made as little sound as possible. "Wow... That man isn't very happy." He said sadly, shaking his head slowly side to side as though it were the world's greatest tragedy. He took a few moments to reflect, before he beamed widely again, raising a hand. "But, I won't let it make me any less happy, nope!"
With that, he skipped merrily down the halls, humming happily to himself.
Where was he going?
... I don't think anyone had any idea.
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Post by FC4 on Sept 6, 2008 20:29:55 GMT
A ceiling of stone, finely carved out and smoothed to a polish shine. It was a marvel of craftsmanship for the 'barbarian' Glaen, whose people so rarely made such frivolous stone structures. Rather than wear away at the stone, they had always worked with it, using the natural forms to their advantage.
It had only been a few months, and yet the environments, the people, the lifestyles, had changed so much in that short trip. He felt alien in this city, Anvil. Looking at this ceiling, crafted in such an alien manner, only furthered this feeling of separation for the Nord. It made him think of home, of the vast expanses of white land and the animals hunting within the snow-touched trees. It was a world were everything moved in glorious harmony, where everything had a set purpose and fulfilled it to the end, and every bit gone to waste was a sin upon the soul of the waster.
It was nothing like this world, where one was cramped and confined within a stone structure, cut off from nature by daily duties to other people and constant worry about coin for their next meal. Thinking of home brought a longing within the Nord to venture outside, to inhale the open air and bask in sun with a breeze in his hair.
The speckles of snow flitting about him in the air of his room, however, made sure that Glaen remained within its confines. His power had dimmed down, now, and he knew that no doors would get frozen by his presence. The bed was still movable, though crackled with each motion as small crystals of ice were ground down by his weight. The air about him was frosty, an occasional snowflake forming, but little more.
If he went outside, that would all change. He'd suffer once more the immense surge of power that caused so much trouble so recently. He'd again have to return inside and wait for his body to cool down in the chiller air of the building interior. No, he could not leave the building.
No matter how much he wanted to, he could not go back outside into nature. Not without learning control first. And for control, I need Zohara's help. He told himself, nodding to the ceiling in affirmation. His power had settled down now, so he'd venture forth and find her.
Just have to make sure I avoid windows. Glaen realized with a hushed sigh, getting up and leaving his possessions on the table to continue thawing out.
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Post by Vrek on Sept 7, 2008 6:36:18 GMT
Jarrod flexed his hand, wincing at the stinging sensation as warm blood ran through his fingers. His fingers hung open, awkwardly refusing to stay closed into a fist. His hand rose and shook away the last remaining frost clinging to his hair. His clothes were damp, and beads of water left from the ice still clung to his skin. What Jarrod wondered was why he was covered in ice, and why he didn't notice it until so much longer after what it would take to cover him like that.
Finished thawing in the sun, Jarrod turned back towards the door of the manor. He was about to reach for the handle of the door, when he was barreled over him, through the door, then slammed it in his face. Jarrod didn't have to look around to know the annoyance he was feeling was genuine. Feeling quite unhappy, the dunedweller grabbed the handle of the door and yanked it open, no doubt unbalancing the man who was just inside leaning on it. This struck Jarrod as surprising. Or maybe it struck man that was just leaning on the door as surprising. Jarrod really had no way to know.
It made no difference though, he quickly stepped in past the rude man. He nodded to Zohara, and held his right hand about a foot from from his chest, with the tips of his fingers touching the end of his palm: a simple greeting gesture he grew up with. "Are you finished with everyone else? I'd wanna ask you a few things, 'thought maybe you could help me."
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