Winter's Grasp

Finally, the group had reached their destination, Winterhold. And, well, everyone but Michael found themselves hugely disappointed by what they saw. Aside from the huge college standing alone meters from the snowy cliff face, everything else in the town, no, it couldn't even be called a town, there were only a couple inhabitable buildings present. The rest appeared to have been burned down or lost when the ground they were built on collapsed.

It was so barren that they'd not come across a single person, merchant, or even bandits on the road. There was simply no point, what was there to trade? Who was there to trade to? The only real reason Michael could see that the 'town' hadn't been completely abandoned was because of the college.

Their two horses pull the cart towards the town, hoofs kicking up ice and snow from the road as they go. There wasn't anyone there to greet them, indeed, had Michael not known better he'd have considered this place a ghost town.

Fortunately, the dim light in the inn called The Frozen Heart revealed that people did indeed live here. Michael has the horses pull up beside the small stable that had only a couple other horses present before entering the inn with the others.

"Excuse me?" he asks as he enters, his eyes scanning the hall which was dearly lacking guests. How did this inn even stay open with such little business?

The owner, a middle-aged blonde Nord jolts from where he'd been slumped over the bar top. "A-ah! Guests! W-welcome to The Frozen Hearth! Can I get you a drink? A room maybe? Please, ask away, I don't bite!" the man says, sounding far too eager to be natural.

Michael coughs into his fist, "Er, we're here for the college, but we need someone to take care of our horses and cart in the meantime. Do you do a service for that, or?"

The man lets out a sigh and his demeanour quickly changes to one of depression and reluctant acceptance, "Yeah, I guess. Ten gold a day per horse, I won't charge you for the cart, ain't like I have to feed it or something." he shrugs.

Michael nods, tossing the man a small sack that should be enough to keep both horses here for half a year. "Not sure how long we'll be here, so just use that and let me know when we're out." he offers, the inn-keeper probably needed the money more than Michael did, plus, he was likely to become a friend or an acquaintance while they stayed at the college. No point in not making friends with him for such a low amount.

"Are you sure? T-this might not mean much to you but, this is a lot of money to me!" he warily questions despite his hand being locked tightly around the coin pouch.

Michael nods, "Yeah, don't worry about it. Name's Michael by the way," he starts, introducing everyone else to the man.

The man, Dagur, nods earnestly, a proper smile making its way onto his face as he almost gleefully makes conversation with everyone. Tiffania and Charlotte's use of the language was still a bit stunted, but they knew enough to be able to follow at Dagur's pace.

The group stayed in the inn for around an hour, warming themselves up after the long journey while having some drinks and a small meal with Dagur. The man seemed pretty lonely to be honest, which Tiffania seems to pick up on.

Soon enough though, the time had come for them to leave and head to the college. The group offers Dagur nods and thanks for his service as they leave, "If you need someone send word for us in the college, we'll only be a short walk away after all." Michael offers and the man nods with a grin.

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Outside, the group shrug their furs on tightly as they make their way through the street. Winterhold only had two guards, both of which lived in a small cottage next to the Jarl's place... Speaking of which, a man wearing fine, yet somewhat shabby clothes and a crown steps out from the Longhouse. "Hmm? Visitors in my 'great' city?" he murmurs aloud while examining the group. Particularly, his eyes focus on Charlotte and Tiffania, or at least, the robes they wore under their furs.

"More mages then. Wonderful..." he drawls, glancing at Michael, "And you there, that armour you're hiding. You're not one of them too, are you?"

Michael smiles and shrugs, "Sorry, but I intend to join the college too. Swords, armour, and honour are great and all, but that doesn't mean much when someone can shoot lightning from their fingers."

The Jarl sniffs in derision, "Only a coward would think so, unwilling to face evil without making use of it themselves. Go, but know that while the College might want you, Winterhold definitely doesn't!" the man states before slamming the door in their faces.

"Nice guy, maybe we'll invite him to a tea party or something." Michael jokes as they make their way to the college, quickly finding themselves standing before the large stone structure that worked as an entrance connecting the college to the mainland via the long, perilous-looking stone pathway.

Atop the stairs stood a tall High Elf in what looked like student robes. She was sitting in a wooden chair overlooking the entrance with a bored expression, which slowly clears up when she notices the group. "Stop, who are you and what is your purpose here?"

"Just some people looking to learn magic. Can we go inside?" Michael asks, not really putting that much effort into their introduction... This woman was probably at the lower wrung of the college, this was especially clear with her being told to guard the gate alone... In this freezing cold weather...