User blog:DB Baxter/The Monsters That Be - Chapter I

''Log #1 ''

''Ravos Sythion ''

''12th of Sun’s Height ''

'' My first day as a member of the college. If I had known the events that would come after that day, I would have turned around and ran for Morrowind. Never look back and pursue a different path. Though, it’s too late for that talk, I suppose. ''

''             I was just a runt then. Scrawny, barely old enough to grow the first chin hairs, small, and intimidated. But, I had the eagerness that those blasted instructors so desperately wanted from a student. Eager to learn, eager to add more spells and brews to my abilities. But I think that was the mindset for everyone else, wasn’t it. All those, new students, coming from all across Tamriel, wanting more. I’d like to think that I learned far more than anyone else in my classes. They learned how throw spells and defend against them, While I… I was taught a lesson in reality. ''

''             But, I get ahead of myself. I shall start in the Arcanaeum. The first few moments... ''               Ravos entered the Arcanaeum, readjusting the knapsack on his shoulders to make the walk much easier. He looked around the College’s main source of knowledge, taking in how large it was. He had heard stories about how big the Arcanaeum was, but he never imagined it being this big. The bookshelves looked tall enough to touch the sky, and every inch of them were filled up with a spell book, or philosophical piece, or some work of fiction. Needless to say, the young Dark Elf felt right at home.

             “If you’re one of the new students, take a seat over by section 4A,” An elderly yet bitter voice interrupted Ravos’s thoughts, bringing him back down to earth. The voice belonged to an aged Breton man, studying a large stack of papers behind a massive desk. He was most likely the keeper of the Arcanaeum, so Ravos did not hesitate to do as he was told.

             Section 4A had a few chairs set up in 2 rows of 7. About 10 of them were already filled up with more young students, most of them being of an elven race. There were also a few Bretons and Argonians in the mix, along with a single orc. Ravos recognized not a single one of them, which was of no surprise. Back home, most of the men were expected to follow the path of a soldier or a laborer. Neither path interested Ravos, as he found comfort in the path of a mage. Much to the disappointment of his family. And friends. And, well, everyone else in Windhelm.

             Ravos sighed and plopped down in the nearest chair of the second row, next to an Argonian. He immediately put his head down and waited. Once again, he was alone to his thoughts. He thought one what was going to come next. Not, what would come of the college, but what comes after the college. He’d need to find a job after this. Perhaps, a court mage for one of the Jarls. A scholar, maybe. Or even, become an instructor for the College.

             “Well, look who showed up!” Another voice interrupted Ravos’s train of thought. This voice, however, he recognized. It was one that he never thought he’d hear within the walls of a college, and certainly one he never wanted to hear within the walls of the college. Just to be sure it really was him, he looked up, and sure enough, he saw a familiar face of a Nord with a shaved head and a similar scar that ran from the tip of his chin to the right corner of his mouth.

             “Congrats on making it in, Jag,” Einvald commented.



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''In Windhelm, the common ideal was that if you were a man, you were either going to fight for Windhelm as a soldier or serve Windhelm as a laborer. And if that ideal ever needed a poster boy, Einvald would fit the mold pretty well. He was everything that the Jarl wanted out of a Nord soldier. He had the physique and strength of a soldier, and the determination and loyalty that the captains wanted. However, he wasn’t dumb like most of your barbaric guards. He was well educated. And when I was younger, I hated him. Hated everything about him. That’s not the case now, but back then, he was what I considered to be the bane of my existence. ''

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<p class="MsoNormal"> “Hi…” Ravos muttered sourly, turning his head back down to the floor. Why did he, of all people, have to be here. It could have been anyone else. Literally, anyone.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “Why so down, Jag?” Einvald asked, with a slight chuckle added on to the end of it.

<p class="MsoNormal">             There was that name again. ‘Jag’. Ravos could not stand that name. Every time it was uttered, he felt another layer of rage and irritation build up inside him. It wasn’t even clever. When Ravos was but a child and first met Einvald and a few other Nords, he spoke highly of his aspirations to be a mage, to which one of them compared him to Jagar Tharn. He mispronounced Jager as Jagger, and the name Jag was stuck with Ravos since then. In other words, the name Jag was just Einvald’s way of mocking his dreams.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “My name isn’t Jag,” Ravos spat back, visibly irritated. “I would prefer if you called me Ravos, thanks.”

<p class="MsoNormal">             Einvald arched an eyebrow before rolling his eyes. He never understood why the Dark Elf would always get so angry with him. “What are you even doing here?” Ravos asked.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “My job, Jag,” Einvald shrugged. It was only now that Ravos realized that Einvald was decked in a Winterhold Guard uniform and had a battle axe on his back. “Got a job down here in Winterhold. College Security.”

<p class="MsoNormal">             “College Security?” Ravos frowned. “What would we need you here for? Should trouble arise, I think we’d be fine defending ourselves with our spells…”

<p class="MsoNormal">             “Yeah, but… y’know… doesn’t hurt to have an official guard on standby,” Einvald replied.

<p class="MsoNormal">             It was then that the two were interrupted by what seemed to be a Bosmer. He was oddly shaped, having a hunched back and forced to walk with the cane. Still, his presence was commanding. “Bothering the students again, Master Einvald?” He asked, inching closer to the group.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “No, sir,” Einvald answered, turning to leave. “Was just catching up.”

<p class="MsoNormal">             Ravos sighed in relief as the smug guard disappeared out of the door. Just as he left, though, the Bosmer stamped his cane against the stone floor to get the attention of the new students.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “Greetings, learners,” The Bosmer addressed the group, waving an innocent hand. To the others, he seemed rather harmless. Perhaps, even a bit naïve. Definitely not someone you’d see as an instructor at the most prestigious arcane college in Tamriel

<p class="MsoNormal">             “I am Vindil, the head of the Destruction Magic teachings,” He introduced himself, much to the murmuring and giggles of a few students. Ravos simply watched the Bosmer with all of his attention.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “Today, I will be giving you a brief tour of the college and hopefully get all of you well aquainted into your new abodes. If you please, for a single file line in front of me, when can begin.”

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<p class="MsoNormal">''<span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">When I first saw the man, I had the same impression as just about everyone else in the room had. I first thought he was going to be a fool. A senile old man who was going to preach to us ramblings and gibberish instead of actually teaching us the ways of destruction magic. I couldn’t comprehend why someone like him would be in charge of, arguably the largest and most interesting part of the curriculum. Though, the more I talked with him, the more I understood why he had to be the instructor of destruction. ''

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<p class="MsoNormal"> Vindil began the tour by talking highly of the Arcanaeum on their way out. “Almost every piece on magic and spell can be found within the bookshelves of the Arcanaeum. The college prides this place as being the largest assembly of knowledge in Skyrim, if not all of Tamriel, if not the entirety of Nirn. I ask that you show the books, and the staff here, the respect that they deserve.”

<p class="MsoNormal">             After they exited the Arcanaeum, they made their way up a massive meeting area that was directly above. It featured a large fountain at the center of the room, and many doors circling around it. They presumably led to classrooms or meeting places for the instructors.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “This, is the hall of the elements,” Vindil said, stamping his cane again, to make sure he had the others attention. “This is where you will be doing the majority of your studying and where you will report each day for classes. More information on those classes will be given tomorrow, when you receive your schedules.

<p class="MsoNormal">             With that, Vindil began to turn and lead the group back out into the courtyard. From there, he pointed out the Hall of Countance, where the staff of the college stayed. Ravos noted that there appeared to be a small hatch that led into the ground. Probably a place for storage.

<p class="MsoNormal">             Eventually, the group came to the Hall of Attainment. It was another large, cylinder shaped building. Not much to not about the college in the field of architecture besides the courtyard, was there? But then again, you didn’t come to the college to admire how it was constructed. You came to learn the skills of a mage.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “This hall is where you will make yourselves at home, for as long as you’re at the college,” Vindil dabbled on, having lost the attention of a few of his students. Ravos, however, was paying deathly close attention.

<p class="MsoNormal">             Vindil lead them inside, where there were once again many rooms circling around a fountain. This one, however, was on a much smaller scale and there were fewer rooms. Near the stairwell, a paper was posted on the wall with what appeared to be names and room numbers on there. There were a few students already in the hall and walking about

<p class="MsoNormal">             “On those papers, you will find your names, along with the room you will be staying in,” Vindil explained. Get yourselves acquainted and relax for the night. You will be officially introduced to the college tomorrow and get your schedules tomorrow.”

<p class="MsoNormal">             With that, the portly Bosmer set off, cane smashing into the stone with each passing step. The students, meanwhile, walked over to the list and began searching for their names.

<p class="MsoNormal">             Ravos was a little less than eager to find out which room he was in. Well, actually, he was not eager about seeing who he was with. He wasn’t one for interaction, and knowing his luck, he’d probably end up with someone better than him in every way.

<p class="MsoNormal">             Still, it was necessary to find his room. So, with a sigh, he stepped through the crowd and made his way up to the list, skimming through and looking under the S’s. Sure enough, he found Sythion, and directly across from it, he saw the room 2B. On the second level.

<p class="MsoNormal">             With that information, he began to make his way up the stairs, wondering if he even had a roommate. Maybe he lucked out and got a room to himself? What condition would the room be in? Would it be falling apart or would it be well put together?

<p class="MsoNormal">             He made it to the top of the stairs, skimming over the plaques located near each door until he found the one that had 2B engraved into it. The plaque looked rather clean, with very few scratches in the thin silver. The door also looked practically brand new, as well.

<p class="MsoNormal">             Ravos rolled his shoulders and walked forward to the door, and opened it slightly. He looked through the small crack, and saw that the room was lit not by candles, but by mage light contained within tiny glass fragments that hung just above the room. There were 2 beds, and many tables adorned with food, books, and bottles for filling. All in all, the room looked rather tidy and nice.

<p class="MsoNormal">             He opened the door fully, and stepped aside. He received a substantial surprise when someone had already beaten him to the room. Sitting at one of the desks was a brown Argonian, scribbling away at what appeared to be a note to someone. He peaked over his shoulder, blue eyes meeting Ravos’s, and he waved. “Are you, uh… Rayvos?” The Argonian asked.

<p class="MsoNormal">             “Ravos, yeah…” The Dark Elf corrected, plopping his bag down on one of the beds. “Your name?”

<p class="MsoNormal">             The Argonian answered. “Utahsi. Nice to meet you.”

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<p class="MsoNormal">''<span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:107%;font-family:"Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri;mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language: EN-US;mso-bidi-language:AR-SA">I hold a lot of respect for Utahsi. I thought, at first, that I had it rough. But then, I met this Argonian. The more I learned about him, the more it amzed me how he was able to turn it around. He made it up to there, despite the odds of doing so being a million to one. It’s like one of those, underdog stories you read to your children before it’s time to sleep. I hope things have turned out the best for him. I haven’t talked to him in so long, and it’d be a shame to know that it was for nothing. ''

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