Maemion sat cross legged at the base of the mountain. While the others were merely marvelling at the height and grandeur of High Hrothgar, Maemion was taking time to draw a short sketch of the better half that wasn't covered in clouds into one of the blank books he carried. He began writing notes about his adventuring party after the sketch. The first was a Dunmer who had [i]sort of[/i] hyped them up for the climb, but it made Maemion a bit less interested than anything really. The next member of the party was a young Breton mage. She seemed rather generic for a Breton really, other than the lack of robes she was generally what you'd expect from a Breton. He was glad to have at least one skilled mage in the party although he did have a slight feeling of unease around her. He was probably just experiencing the after-effects of some bad pork that the inn had served him before. The third member of the party was an Orc to say the least. He towered over the group much alike the mountain ahead although he seemed to have been involved in more fights than said mountain. Maemion stopped writing about the Orc as the chance that he may write something offensive was a definite chance and if the Orc ever found his notes, then Maemion could probably guarantee that he could say goodbye to his neck.

The fourth member of the party looked much alike to the people he had seen in Ivarstead. It was obvious he was a Nord and you'd have to be blind to confuse him with an imperial or a Breton. The member after him was much alike the fourth. In fact, if he hadn't met them recently and found out what they were actually they like he would call them similar in just about everything. But their personalities seemed to differ quite greatly. The last member of the party Maemion got to write about was a Breton Priest. A battle priest to be more precise. He should be fun to write about at least, to find out why a priest would turn to violence would be a very interesting thing to write about.

Before Maemion could finish people began to climb the mountain. He looked up in curiosity as the sound of boots trampling on snow filled his ears. He always loved the sound of snow being walked on, it was like the harsh scribblings of someone pressing too hard on a quill. He closed his book before putting it into his satchel and standing up. Disaster struck as he stood up though, his quiver fell down his shoulder and onto the ground. He forgot he had moved it as it was chafing his shoulder. He facepalmed at his own stupidity before picking it back up along with a few arrows that had fallen into the snow and putting them all back in the right positions. He hoped he didn't look [i]too[/i] stupid while doing that. He began to follow behind the group. He began to converse with the rest of them, the few semblances of speaking were the Dunmers 'speech' and the Nord commenting on said 'speech'. He tried to change the topic of the conversation to something more diverse and relatable.
"So, has anyone read [i]'Fall of the Snow Prince?'[/i] I recently bought at and wondered if it I should bother reading it" He grinned, he hoped that some of these people read books. He didn't mean to sound cruel when he said that it was just, a few of the party members were a bit....oafish looking. Nevertheless, he had met stranger people in his time and there was always the chance.