1: New Arrivals
~ Rath Alarthril, Dark Elf ~
Ever since I was a small dark elf girl, I’ve wanted to go to the College of Winterhold. But today is the day I’ll finally set foot in the mythical College. I walk up the path, the cold, winter winds blasting me from all sides.
A hard shiver snakes down my spine, and I rub my hands together.
“You must be Rath Alarthril,” says a tall Breton guy with long, black hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. He wears the mage clothes that all initiates wear. He hands me a wrapped up bundle of clothes. “Here, your new … well, it isn’t a uniform, but it’s just something that’ll help your magicka be stronger.”
“Thanks,” I say, following him up a slope, and past the final magical font that stands in front of the large, wrought-iron gates that show an image of an eye. The doors creak as they open, as though they too were excited for our arrival.
“Oh, I’m Kas Arkego,” he says. “A Breton from the Reach.”
“The Reach? How’d you make it here, then?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Well, it took a long time, I’ll tell you that.”
“It did, I bet,” I say. “I’m from here in Winterhold. I live down by the inn.”
“Ah, well, that’s cool,” he says. “You like it here?”
I shrug. “It’s all I’ve ever known, really. But yeah. I do like it here.”
“Seems like a quiet place,” he says, smiling a lopsided smile. “You like quiet?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Kas shrugs. “Not me. I like adventure. Think it’s one of the reasons I came here, to this place.”
“Welcome, initiates,” says a tall, lean Dark Elf lady. Her short red hair whips around her face, getting in her blood-red eyes. Her gray skin seems to blend in with the snowy air. She smiles as she steps up to us. “I am Sardiri Llarnor, the Arch-Mage.”
Kas smiles at her. “Nice to meet you, madam.”
She chuckles. “Please, call me Sardiri. I know it is informal, but I don’t like titles.”
“Very well,” he says.
“And who might you two be?”
“I’m Rath Alarthril.”
“Kas Arkego.”
Sardiri smiles at us. “Well, I’d like to formally welcome you both to the College of Winterhold. You will learn much here, and I’m sure it will help you as you both grow to become strong young mages.”
Kas glances at me, then back to Sardiri. “Can you show us around?”
“Oh, of course! Come, I’ll take you to the Hall of the Elements first. That’s where you’ll be learning your spells.”
~ ~
After Sardiri has brought us through the courtyard and to the two main places of the College, she bids us farewell and leaves. Then, Kas and I walk back to the Hall of the Elements, where we find the other students.
There are three other students, aside from me and Kas.
Sarnrald Soul-Maiden, a very tall and muscular Nord woman whose green eyes stand out from her very pale skin and equally pale, long hair.
There’s also Azaina Mairt-Si, a very buff Redguard man, who has dark skin, long black hair, a long gray beard, and hazel eyes. He seems intimidating at first, but the moment something funny is said, he cackles loudly. He’s a kind soul.
Finally, there’s Indha Vadador, a fellow female Dark Elf. Her skin is a paler shade of gray than mine, but her long hair and eyes are the same crimson shade. She’s a bit more subdued, a bit more shy.
Sarnrald paces in front of the massive well in the center of the chamber, which holds glowing blue energy that reminds me of water. She chews her lip, her arms folded over her chest.
“You okay, Sarn?” Azaina asks her.
She chuckles. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”
“That is truly not a response,” says Kas, smirking his crooked smile at them as he leans against a stone pillar.
Sarnrald laughs. “Oh, yes. I know. But I’m trying to be mysterious, don’t you realize that?”
Indha turns to me. “Are you from here in Winterhold?”
“Yeah, I am. Are you? I’ve never seen you before.”
She shakes her head. “I lived in the Gray Quarter. It’s in Windhelm.”
Sarnrald turns to her. “Windhelm? I lived in Whiterun.”
“Solitude for me,” Azaina says.
“Karthwasten, not far from Markarth, for me,” says Kas.
“Wow, we are from all over Skyrim, eh?” Sarnrald says.
“Indeed,” I say. I turn as the gates creak open, and someone new enters the Hall.
“Welcome to the College of Winterhold, students. I am Iaevi Agvade, your teacher for Restoration magics. Your Arch-Mage has seen fit to have me be the first one to teach you anything. So, I’m going to help you learn how to heal a wound both on your own body and with someone else’s.”
Iaevi is a Breton woman, her long blonde hair hiding the scars on her tan face, just under her hazel eyes. She turns to look at each of us, before finally pointing at Kas and I.
“You two. Care to be my helpers for this?”
“Are you gonna make us hurt each other?” Kas asks.
“Not much,” she says, producing a small iron dagger. “Cut your palms with this, but don’t cut deep. Then, I’ll show you how to heal that wound.”
