Faranirr bit down on the thread, his naturally sharp teeth rendering this task easy. The Dragonborn was still in the Inn and had taken over an hour to do her business. He took advantage of this time to make another cloak out of the Ice wolf pelts. With this cloak, he'd cut some holes over the top of the hood for the Dragonborn's horned helmet. He'd also been careful to design the garment so that it wouldn't catch on any of the spikes that adorned her armor- giving it a tattered, worn look. He nodded with approval, noting that some leather would truly bind it all together, though the cloak was serviceable as it was. The door to the Inn opened and a familiar pair of heavy boots thudded across the wooden porch.
Faranirr leapt down from the roof to her side and ducked under her arm as she almost punched him. "I made you a cloak." He said as he offered it to her.
She sounded like she was ready to give him a stern talking to about sneaking up on her, but merely took the cloak with a muttered, "Thanks."
"The College isn't far from here." He said as she put it on.
"I can see the tall gray spires, Khajiit." She said. Faranirr helped her adjust it so that it fit over her armor perfectly.
"My name is Daro'Faranirr Ranaesi. Not 'Cat' or 'Khajiit'." He said.
"I don't care." She said as he adjusted the hood over her helmet.
"Would you like it much if I called you 'Nord' or 'Dragonborn'?" He asked.
"I assume you already do as much." She said. Well, she wasn't wrong. The Dragonborn turned on her heel to go to the College and Faranirr followed.
A High Elf waited on the bridge with her arms crossed and a firm frown on her face. Faranirr could feel the air around her become heavier as the pair approached. "Cross the bridge at your own peril. The way is dangerous and the gate will not open. You shall not gain entry." She said.
"May we enter?" The Dragonborn asked. The Elf thought it over for a moment before answering.
"Perhaps. But what is it you hope to gain upon entry?" She asked.
"I just want to see what it looks like on the inside." The Dragonborn replied. She sounded serious but Faranirr couldn't tell. The Elf cracked a smile and the air felt lighter.
"Humor. Intriguing. I can feel you seek more, though. And at that point, it's a question of you can offer the College. You see, we only allow in mages that show a degree of proficiency in magic. If you could demonstrate that to me, I'd be more than happy to allow you in."
"Can one of us take this test for the pair of us?" The Dragonborn asked.
"I suppose so." The Elf replied. Faranirr let out a mental sigh of relief. The Dragonborn would surely take care of this.
"Faranirr, you're up." She said.
"What?!" He exclaimed.
"Perform the nice woman's test and let's get going." She said.
He pulled her aside and whispered, "I can't do any magic!"
"Then you'd better bluff like there's no tomorrow. Without that test, we don't get in." She said. Faranirr knew better than to press it any farther.
He cleared his throat, straightened his armor, and put on his most winning smirk. He walked back up to the Elf and, lowering his voice to a deep purr, said, "We both know I'll pass this." She silently stared at him. Faranirr began to sweat, had it not worked? Was he actually going to have to attempt magic?! He almost wished he was still pinned under a dragon.
"I suppose you would. Follow me." She finally said.
Faranirr had to resist the urge to break out into song. He looked back at the Dragonborn with a grin. She quickly pushed past him with a sigh. 'She's just jealous.' He thought as he followed.
Faranirr and the Dragonborn entered the main room of the college in the middle of an old man rambling about practicing the safe use of magic. Faranirr was distracted by the vast halls and intricate architecture. He wondered how much time and gold had been poured into crafting such a place. He also wondered where the kitchen was.
"You've been quiet so far, what do you think we should do?" The old man now spoke to the Dragonborn and Faranirr. He noticed that all of the mages wore outfits that were not unlike the dresses tavern wenches wore, though significantly less… appealing. They eyed the warrior and her Khajiit companion with bated breath.
"I think we should learn something practical." She finally said, although she sounded rather bored- as though she wasn't really paying attention to anything the old man was saying.
"Is that so?" He said. Something in his tone set Faranirr's fur on edge, as though something very bad was going to happen very soon. "Are you at all familiar with ward spells?" He asked.
"I'm not, but my companion is." She gestured to Faranirr with her hand, "I'm sure he'd be glad to help."
Faranirr laughed loudly, uncomfortably, before coughing, "Not-ahem, choke- any-hack- good- cough, cough- with magic-hack- I feel like there's something going around. Perhaps I should go see a healer." He said.
"I'm certain you'll be perfectly fine. Please, move to that space and construct a ward to block my spell." The old man said.
He looked to the Dragonborn, his eyes wide, screaming a silent 'Help!' She raised her hands in a half-hearted gesture of helplessness. Faranirr moved to the spot the old man had designated and waited. "Now I'm going to cast a spell, and I want you to block it." He said. Faranirr gave a weak nod as he waited for the spell. A fireball of considerable size flew from the old man's extended palms and hit Faranirr in the chest. The wind was knocked out of him as he flew backwards into a pillar, leaving a web of cracks on it.
"You didn't block it with the ward like I requested. Get up and we'll try it again." The old man said.
'Sweet mother of Talos if another one of those hits me, I'm through.' He thought. What could he do, though? He couldn't bribe the old man to not shoot it again. Maybe he could persuade him. He'd read a story once about an older, powerful wizard who taught at a school for mages who had a thing for men. Maybe this was not so different? Anything would be better at this point than getting turned into charred Khajiit. Faranirr got to his feet, removing his Dragonscale breastplate and helmet. He ran his hands through his hair, letting down the parts he'd tied back into a ponytail so that it spread over his broad shoulders like a mane.
He felt horribly embarrassed and like the entire act was overkill, but it was either a semi-strip show or being subjected to another fireball. The three other students- and the old man- stared at him with impossible intensity, their jaws were unhinged with shock.
The moment of stunned silence was interrupted by a snort. The Dragonborn shook with control for a split second before erupting into laughter. It was so intense, she fell backwards on the floor, holding her sides.
Faranirr- who before had only felt moderately embarrassed- was now as close to blushing as a creature covered in fur could get. He quickly gathered up his things and went back to his companion's side as the old man cleared his throat. "Well, I do believe that is enough on the demonstration of… erm… Stoneflesh-"
"Sir, I thought it was a ward?" The Nord male said.
"I know what I was teaching, young man!" He snapped.
Faranirr helped the Dragonborn to her feet while she tried to stop laughing. While he leaned close to her, she whispered, "Well done."