Boudica
English Yao Ming
"He's at it again..."
"If you're going to carry on with these 'experiments' do them where you will not endanger the lives of other students! And mentors for that matter!"
And so, Arthanar had taken his current experiments and himself off to somewhere where he wouldn't be disturbed by dolts wondering what that hissing sound was, idiots who thought it would be a good idea to stroke the bowl of glowing liquid on Arthanars table, or morons who would volunteer themselves for Arthanars illusion theories when he told them beforehand they had not yet been perfected.
'And they call themselves mages...bah' Arthanar thought with contempt for many of the novices whilst he unladened himself onto some barrels inside the nook in which he had allocated himself, 'they call themselves students of the mind when they cannot even use their own! If they even have one of their own that is'
He sat down on the fur that he had been left on the top of a vacant chest and huffed, rubbing his temples and face with exasperation. True...he hadn't been a pupil at the college and didn't have a place amongst the student as his knowledge and experience was that of a teacher or maybe even an Arch-Mage, but that didn't give them the right to stop his practices in their halls. It wasn't as if he had been raising the dead...
Even though he found necromancy a fascinating practice...
He knew how to conduct himself within an old institute such as the college of winterhold!
He shrugged off his current malevolent thoughts concerning a variety of snitches in the Hall of Attainment and flipped open one of the many satchels that he had brought with him containing some collected ingrediants.
The smell that came out of many of these pouches and satchels was akin to that found in a draugrs armpit yet Arthanar steeled himself against them.
He had set the dry torches alight with a flick of his wrist and started setting bowls on the tiers of the alchemy table that he had personally moved here on a day much like this one. The 'Journeyman's Nook' as it was known locally was were he often retired when told to move his practices from the college or when he simply wanted to get away from stifling idiocy to work/think and generally live, in peace. The first time he had found the place he had to dispose of two dead bodies and the mess they had left behind. However, the heavy body of the bandit was much easier to move once the altmer had brought him back from the land of the dead, studied him and finally was able to sweep his ashes out into the snow.
Yet, the whole reason he had first been attracted to the place was because it had looked like a good respite from the bitter cold of Winterhold...
And with the bitter chill outside at the minute...
And the inviting glow of the torches he had lit...
It looked a mighty attractive place for any wandering traveller...
"If you're going to carry on with these 'experiments' do them where you will not endanger the lives of other students! And mentors for that matter!"
And so, Arthanar had taken his current experiments and himself off to somewhere where he wouldn't be disturbed by dolts wondering what that hissing sound was, idiots who thought it would be a good idea to stroke the bowl of glowing liquid on Arthanars table, or morons who would volunteer themselves for Arthanars illusion theories when he told them beforehand they had not yet been perfected.
'And they call themselves mages...bah' Arthanar thought with contempt for many of the novices whilst he unladened himself onto some barrels inside the nook in which he had allocated himself, 'they call themselves students of the mind when they cannot even use their own! If they even have one of their own that is'
He sat down on the fur that he had been left on the top of a vacant chest and huffed, rubbing his temples and face with exasperation. True...he hadn't been a pupil at the college and didn't have a place amongst the student as his knowledge and experience was that of a teacher or maybe even an Arch-Mage, but that didn't give them the right to stop his practices in their halls. It wasn't as if he had been raising the dead...
Even though he found necromancy a fascinating practice...
He knew how to conduct himself within an old institute such as the college of winterhold!
He shrugged off his current malevolent thoughts concerning a variety of snitches in the Hall of Attainment and flipped open one of the many satchels that he had brought with him containing some collected ingrediants.
The smell that came out of many of these pouches and satchels was akin to that found in a draugrs armpit yet Arthanar steeled himself against them.
He had set the dry torches alight with a flick of his wrist and started setting bowls on the tiers of the alchemy table that he had personally moved here on a day much like this one. The 'Journeyman's Nook' as it was known locally was were he often retired when told to move his practices from the college or when he simply wanted to get away from stifling idiocy to work/think and generally live, in peace. The first time he had found the place he had to dispose of two dead bodies and the mess they had left behind. However, the heavy body of the bandit was much easier to move once the altmer had brought him back from the land of the dead, studied him and finally was able to sweep his ashes out into the snow.
Yet, the whole reason he had first been attracted to the place was because it had looked like a good respite from the bitter cold of Winterhold...
And with the bitter chill outside at the minute...
And the inviting glow of the torches he had lit...
It looked a mighty attractive place for any wandering traveller...
