Tuesday - 30 Hours In

Today it snowed. It hasn't stopped snowing since I set out for Winterhold and it's been colder than Cherie Blair's smile. Before making my journey I took in the many sights of Windhelm. It's an undeniably pretty place with a certain rugged charm and a subtle undercurrent of racism veining its walls like Stilton mold. But much less tasty.

Windhelm's main square. As frigid as it looks.

Apparently they don't much like elves here. I could scarcely believe it myself. Who on Earth doesn't like elves? We're charming, friendly, loyal and particularly good with bows. And did I mention that we happen to be devilishly handsome? I suppose we must make some men feel insecure. Just look at Legolas - I swear closet doors burst open behind him as if on springs.

Here's one man who wasn't upset by my breathtaking visage. He owns a 'House of Curiosities' and his tour is astonishingly entertaining. Here he is showing me a flute that, when played, compels men to dance for as long as the music continues. Why only men, I'm not sure. There's a definite homoerotic theme to today's update that I can honestly say I hadn't anticipated when I began writing it.

I forget the chap's name. Thaxtis or something like that. Interesting fellow. Knows how to make men dance for him.

Satisfied that I had broken enough hearts for one day, I set forth down the road to Winterhold. Being a mage, I was intrigued by the town's eponymous college, renowned for its excellence in research into the arcane arts. Upon the road I met a band of revelers who invited me to share a bottle of mead with them. Needless to say, I partook of their generosity and continued on my way feeling a little warmer than before. The reason this is of particular note is that one of the revelers caught my eye with his somewhat weather-inappropriate attire.

I can only imagine how much mead this guy's had...

He might not look happy in this picture, but believe me, he's buzzing. Not quite sure how his respiratory system hasn't packed up, but I'm guessing it's something to do with the skinful of mead he's sporting. That, or he has Scottish ancestry. Look at him, with his surprisingly pliable nipples and laissez-faire attitude to life.

Anyhow, I don't quite remember actually walking to Winterhold, but somehow I ended up there. Here's a shot of my first lesson at the college, where the tutor is teaching alteration magic.

The turnout for the class was better than expected

Tomorrow I'm planning on heading out on a grand adventure, with the possible eventual aim of reaching Dawnstar. Check back in 24 hours for the latest on horses, vampires and innuendo.