With Hearts Ablaze- A Skyrim RP

It was always cold in Skyrim. That was just a fact of life. Still, Nelbor cursed the biting cold and howling wind as he continued his trek up the Seven Thousand stairs. The snow elf knew he needed to be in High Hrothgar, but did not know why. Still, he climbed, and concentrated solely on reaching the summit.

Mavur walked briskly up towards High Hrothgar, the flame atronach he had summoned keeping his surroundings at a quite comfortable temperature. Spotting the snow elf slightly further ahead he quickened his pace, calling out, "Greetings Stranger! Are you another Dragonborn perchance?!"

Ra'Kir hiked up the steps. Or rather, Ra'Kir's horse climbed up the steps while he sat upon her back. The sturdy old girl had been Ra'Kir's companion for nearly ten years, after he had bought the - at the time - tiny beast for a measely hundred septims. Now fully grown and eager for adventure, the horse pranced up the steps with more grace than one would ever expect from such a lumbering beast. Upon her saddle hung bags and pouches full of merchandise. Even the Greybeards in High Hrothgar would have needs to be filled and septims to be spent.

His companions had made base camp at Ivarstead, selling goods to the locals and any traveling pilgrims. While smaller villages were generally poor markets, it would have to do until Ra'Kir returned. He did not expect much profit for them, but any they got would be an extra bonus.

At what seemed like halfway up the steps, he pulled his horse to a stop. They both needed a quick break. Ra'Kir patted her neck, jumped off the saddle and pulled out a couple of carrots from his pack. They were half-frozen, but that meant well preserved. Heedless of the food's solidified state, Ra'Kir's horse gobbled up the treat with little difficulty, appreciating the quick break it had been provided. Another day, another adventure.

"Jurgen Windcaller chose silence and returned... The 17 disputants could not shout Him down... Jurgen the Calm built His home on the Throat of the World..." Says Adelheid, descendant of the very heritage that bred such a mighty hero... her breath coming out in a white puff as the cold wind howled all around her, making the Nord warrior feel truly alive.

The words she knew in one way or the other... most kids in Skyrim with even a bit of interest for their history would know the story of one of their heroes. However... to read it upon these most holy of places... carved in enduring stone upon the Throat of the World... it was an experience that spoke to the soul.

With a smile on her lips, Adelheid prepared herself to continue the climb, after a short prayer to Talos. To some, her shoulders may seem over packed with a traveling pack on it, a greatsword and additionally a bow. However, the Nord woman was strong, and walked easily and with a certain grace even when so encumbered.

An Argonian casually jogged up the Seven Thousand Steps. Though considering he was covered head to toe in heavy armor, it was mainly his tail that gave away his race. His armor was cheap and bulky, and steel wasn't exactly the material of choice for anything but the most humble of adventurers, he still wore it with pride as it was something he had made with his own two hands and had served him well for many years.

"Make way for the Dragonborn!" Raz called out, running past a Nord, an elf of some kind, and a Dunmer. "Dragonborn coming through! But anyone with ale is welcome to follow along."

He picked up his pace and began sprinting up the steps.

"Last one to High Hrothgar's a milk drinker!"

edited 17th Apr '14 8:15:14 PM by nman

"Dragonborn...?"

Nelbor grew suspicious of the stranger with his flame atronach. Who was he to claim that he was the Dragonborn? But then an Argonian came up behind the Dunmer, also claiming to be the Dragonborn. This all seemed very suspect to Nelbor. "You both claim to be the Dragonborn?" asked the snow elf, narrowing his eyes at the Dunmer and the Argonian. "Were you two summoned here as well?"

Nelbor humored the idea that their claims were true. By extension, that meant he was a Dohvakiin, too.

A roar interrupted the thoughts of the snow elf as a pair of frost trolls lumbered down the mountain towards the travellers. Nelbor cursed under his breath and drew his war axe, sparks crackling in his other hand.

"Hmmm?"

Adelheid lowered the hood on her traveling cloak as she heard a sound coming from down the path she had already walked... a roar of an inhuman beast on the hunt. Trolls? Quite possible... they tended to stalk mountains not unlike this one. Perhaps they were hunting a goat, but somehow Adelheid doubted it. Taking out her bow in her left hand, Adelheid started to retrace her steps to see what was happening.