Hello Nirn [for prototypezeus ]

[conjuredskies]

After the strange non-place of the Nexus, the first taste of Skyrim air is like a cold slap to the face. They've appeared beside a standing stone, no taller than a man, with a large circular hole near the top and carved with a pattern like an ornate eye. The Ritual Stone. It's a small thing, to look at. Yet Felix can feel the pulse and ebb of ancient power from it. He gives the curved surface a respectful pat and steps away, toward the stone arch that marks the path up here.

The stones sit upon a raised circle of rocky ground. To their left, there's a steep drop into the rush of a fast-flowing mountain river; to the right, a road curls about the base of a mountain whose sheer sides rear into a white haze of ice and cloud. Around them rise its lesser sisters, craggy and interlocked, hemming the road and river ahead into a narrow pass; behind them, the mountains fall away on one side and open up to a wide plain.

"Well, here we are." Felix draws a deep breath of the crisp air. He grabs a satchel from the base of one stone and stores his book safely inside, slinging it over his body. Then he turns to Alex and spreads his hands at the landscape around them. "Welcome to the realm of Tamriel."

Comments

[conjuredskies]

"The ground won't let you. You want a road that's fairly even and doesn't wash away in the winter, so the good routes have to wind through passes and around mountains, hills, marshes... even when you've got good engineers working on them. Some of the roads round here are ancient. The Legion builds better ones, and they actually are pretty straight in my province. It takes trained craftsmen, though, and a lot of labour."

Knowing the bare bones about this stuff is just one odd side-effect of his upbringing.

[prototypezeus]

Alex doesn't know much about road-building, so he takes Felix at his word. It's still weird to him though, especially given the lack of asphalt.

They have to cross over the stream coming from the settlement more than once on the way in, and Alex has to fight the urge to simply leap the gap to clear it. He hurries across though, eager to avoid getting wet if he can.

[conjuredskies]

Felix can hear his steps speed up and down, but deliberately doesn't look round, not to draw attention.

"Lucky it's not raining," he remarks as they approach the last and largest gate, with its great oak and steel doors.

[prototypezeus]

Alex makes a disgusted face. "Does that happen a lot?" It rains often on Manhattan, but there are plenty of buildings he can duck into for shelter, or subway tunnels where he can travel without risk of getting wet. He doesn't see anything resembling an underground subway here, nor are the buildings close together or easily accessible.

[conjuredskies]

"Almost as often as the snow," Felix replies. Whatever happens, he makes a note, no calling on Alex when it's wet. Good to know ahead of time.

The distance between buildings is good, Alex. It cuts the stink down dramatically. This is clearly important when they step through the doors. The forge at Warmaiden's is close by on the right, the curing hides pungent on the tanning racks. The smith herself is bent over the forge, adjusting the temperature with a hiss of bellows and a keen instinct.

Ahead of them the cobbled streets branch and interlace their way up the hill, townspeople milling among them. On the left comes a burst of noise as a patron full of ale emerges from the Drunken Huntsman, door swinging shut behind him. Voices and bootsteps and the clink of steel fill the air.

At least the stream mostly stays on the edge of the streets.

[prototypezeus]

Alex doesn't mind the stink much, simply regarding it as additional sensory output, neither pleasant nor unpleasant. They are, however, smells that he doesn't recognize, and he rubbernecks a little bit as he looks around at the various businesses and other buildings. It's a lot noisier than he's used to, certainly closer to the tavern at least.

"This place is so... busy."

[conjuredskies]

"People are like that, when they're alive and well," Felix says cheerfully. He enjoys this: the sense of bustle and activity after hours - or weeks - alone in the wild.

He steps back smartly as a couple of children run past, the Redguard girl laughing as she tears after the boy, jeering, "Don't be such a baby, Battle-born!"

Felix makes an absent note at that name but doesn't pay much heed. He's got something else on his mind, waving at the tavern sign. "Let's start with the Huntsman here."

There seemed like far too much of that inter-clan stuff at the Bannered Mare. Not a problem for Felix, but given his company he'd like to keep the game simple.

[prototypezeus]

For Alex, it's kind of strange. While he has had occasion to mingle with the crowds in the 'healthier' part of the island, he spends most of his time in the Red Zone, where the only uninfected humans are Blackwatch and a handful of unlucky civilians.

"What are we starting?" Alex asks as he follows Felix, eyeing the building suspiciously.

[conjuredskies]

Felix shoots a grin over his shoulder as he strides up to the door. "Revelry. Merriment. Possibly havoc."

With a shove of his hand, the door opens into a small tavern, heavy wooden beams arching above them into a high, smoke-stained roof. Even this early, it's starting to fill with people, seated in nooks and around the walls. Although the windows let in shafts of sunlight, it's weak compared to the illumination of the glowing torches and the blazing fire in the central pit. Beside it stand a few cooking pots, and over it a spit laden with roasting rabbit and venison. As they come in, it's being adjusted by the tavern owner, a Bosmer with braided red hair.

He looks up and swiftly moves behind the counter, wiping his hands. "Hello, friends. Can I offer you some hunting supplies or a drink?"

[prototypezeus]

The only word out of that that Alex gets is havoc. He's good at that, although he isn't really sure that's what Felix means unless he has a desire to see everyone in this room dead. So he follows, and keeps his mouth shut, taking stock of the room and its occupants.

The environment is so different from post-apocalyptic Manhattan that he can't help staring at bit, not so much at the people as at the architecture, and the fact that people actually cook things over fire instead of using a stove. Having fire inside a building without people panicking is new on him, too, and he looks at the torches and fire pit cautiously.

The tavern owner gets his attention though. "Hunting supplies?" he repeats, not having expected that. Alex thought this was just like a restaurant, a place to eat instead of buying weapons.

sorry for the delay!

[conjuredskies]

"That's right." The elf gives him a friendly nod, apparently unfazed by his odd manner of dress. He bends for a moment and fetches out an Imperial-style bow with its sturdy, smoothly-carved frame. "We don't just serve mead to our fellow hunters here: we offer supplies for when they head back out. Bows, arrows, light armor and weapons - whatever you need."

"When it comes to hunting, no-one knows the craft better than a Bosmer," Felix says easily. It's both compliment and a bit of explanation for Alex's benefit.

Elrindir chuckles. "Have you an interest in hunting, my friends?"

Not to worry! I'm a-okay with slowtiming if necessary. :)

[prototypezeus]

Alex has never seen a bow in his short life, although some vague memories of people he's consumed give him an idea of what it does. He doesn't think he'd have the skill to use it just now though. If he manages to consume someone skilled in its use, however...

"Yes," he answers, before he can think better of it. He knows how he hunts. But apparently hunting is an openly accepted thing to do here, and while he doubts they're hunting people, he's interested in seeing how it works here at the very least. "I am, at least."