Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20141115020857/@comment-5543592-20141115034355

(I hope you all read the intro.  That was a stroke of literary genius (kidding.))

As the students had arrived at the Academy one by one, they would have remembered being told of the significant improvements made to it in recent years. Reachwind Eyrie had been extensively excavated and added to. Dwarven stone and metal had been carted over from rubble of other more forgotten ruins. The tower was now three times as tall, and five times as large in the way of area and circumference, without losing any of its previous style. Surrounding it on its north face was a low wall, with a barred Dwarven gate leading into the tower’s courtyard.

If you were to enter through the gate, you would see a small garden off to your left, where many alchemical ingredients could be found. To your right, there sat two rows of benches facing a pedestal. It was not an uncommon set-up, one you might find in the Bard’s College of Solitude, or the College of Winterhold.

It is at these benches our heroes, the students, are currently sitting. They are all new additions to the academy and are not familiar with one another (unless of course, for some reason they are). They have been told they are waiting for the last addition to their class, and the Academy’s head master.

Darach, who like all the other students had been given an Academy uniform (which was lying on his lap, still neatly folded), was sitting idly on a bench, a sheathed sword lain at his side. He was peering around at the faces of the other students, trying to learn what he could from their expressions. Every once in a while he would steal a glance at a Breton girl who’d caught his eye.

Artair was not quite as equally complacent. He was excited, eager for the event to start. Finally he couldn’t contain himself any longer. He was also nervous. He didn’t think he’d ever sat still for this long.

“How much longer is it?”   Asked Artair. “What is so important about this ‘last addition’?”

“General Weltrod said to wait, Artair.”   Battlemage Lara replied. She had learned all the students’ names upon their arrival and told them to wait, under General Weltrod’s, or more accurately, Arch-Mage Weltrod’s (as he was the head of a magic-training school), instructions. She now stood at the podium watching over them. “So we wait. You’re free to talk amongst yourselves. These will be your class and teammates for the next three years. Get to know each other.”