A fair observation. I suppose that I was trying to imagine how instantaneous healing spells like in Oblivion might effect the psychology of men and mer. In real life, of course, you don't get insta-heals. It seems to me that if you could totally wave away pain in the blink of an eye, attitudes towards getting hurt would probably be different and people would probably be more reckless.

An alternative way of putting it would be that the wound itself is not totally healed, but that any damage which might inhibit movement, or allow a wound to become infected, or otherwise be life-threatening, is healed, but the wound is still not totally healed and remains painful. I have changed that section a bit.

I agree. If a person could instantly heal themselves, they probably would be much less worried about harming themselves. Although I am sure no one would look forward to being in pain. It is still not fun for one second or days. Lady Syl really highlighted this in her story, at one point in which her protagonist was cutting herself, then healing the wound, cutting again, etc...

I suppose the real question is whether that attitude is a problem? (not Syl's compulsive cutting, that is a problem!) If people are more willing to take risks because they know they can cure their wounds, does that negatively impact your story? If not, there is no point in changing the mechanics. If so, then I can see good reason for trying to limit the effectiveness of healing spells.

On the positive side, I think instant healing makes a good case for people being willing to be adventurers, Gwen especially. If they think they can cure themselves of wounds incurred in the process, there is much less to be afraid of. At least until they are actually doing it and stare a skeleton in its empty eye sockets for the first time. Then they realize that they cannot cure death. Of course by then it is too late.

You should also keep in mind that just because the player character starts the game with a healing spell and a flare spell, that does not mean everyone else in the world does. The ability to use magic of any sort is as limited as you want it to be. Likewise, the price of healing potions or scrolls. If the latter are prohibitively expensive for the common people, and magic only the realm of the gifted, then it will have no effect on society as a whole. Only certain gifted or wealthy individuals.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 13 2011, 08:19 PM

SubRosa - A thoughtful response! Thanks for sharing. It is in some ways a conscious thing to change the dynamics of the storytelling, because I always roleplayed Gwen as a bit of a wary soul, and so I write her that way. In addition to that, though, it was just 'philosophical' speculation on how magic and the like might weave together with the nonetheless very fragile, human people we see in Oblivion. After all, Martin is actually insanely powerful in-game, and has tons of greater powers, healing spells and such, yet as a personality he is certainly not one to dive into combat head first. Another difficult thing is the healing powers of, for instance, altars in chapels, when you have beggars suffering from diseases on the streets. I get around this problem by assuming that they only work for characters of immense personal faith and a certain physical constitution. It's the same with magic.

Acadian - That's the plan! Hopefully she manages to steer clear of that odious woman....

First Seed 22, 3E430 – Chorrol Mages’ Guild

11 A.M.

Teekeeus has received Fingers of the Mountain. He seemed satisfied with my work and promised to write a recommendation for me. That is the least I deserve after that journey. My work in Chorrol appears to be done. I have spent the morning talking to the guild members, asking them what they went through in order to obtain recommendations. An Altmer gentleman named Angalmo confided in me that his process had involved collecting alchemy supplies for guild halls, which tend to run low after a few weeks of mixing and selling potions.

Normally, he explained, the Guild buys from vendors, but if they can get a willing associate to do the legwork, they will. Indeed, he said, ‘I myself have sent associates on the same hunts I went. Not always totally safe, either, especially if you get sent up north to Bruma with the ice and wolves and lack of legion patrols. But that’s the guild for you. Bruma’s the only place to get wormwood, and there’s a hierarchy and associates do the dirty work. But it gets better, trust me.’

Editor’s note: Speaking as a native of Bruma, this comment is, unfortunately, entirely accurate. Legion patrols were seldom spotted in this part of the province at that time, as official statistics testify to. One reason commonly cited by the Legion for this was that in the fierce Nordic cold, the legionary’s plate armour was liable to freeze in place if left in one position for too long. In this editor’s opinion, the Legion should have done what the Bruma Guard did, and use chainmail armour, less prone to freezing, or even plate re-inforced with fur in places to preserve some heat.

I think I will eat lunch now, then take a walk around the town. Chorrol is quite pretty on a good day.

8 P.M.

Oh, merciful Azura! I have been threatened by Earana. When I left the guild hall after lunch, she was standing outside. Of course she wanted the book. When I told her I gave it to Teekeeus, she became furious and demanded I steal the book back from the guild. Her left eye kept twitching in some psychotic manner, and her face was blazing like a lamp. Her voice was hard and bitter, seething with hatred.

I fear for what she may do to me, should I not comply with her demand this time. The other guild mages have warned me about her, also. A Breton, Alberic Little, cautioned me: “She’s nothing but trouble. She went to the University long ago, but was expelled by the guild. Caused all kinds of trouble while she was there.”

Clearly, Earana is not to be trifled with. Whatever shall I do?

First Seed 23, 3E430 – Wawnet Inn

12 P.M.

I have had quite the last few days. My journey in Cyrodiil becomes more and more bizarre with each passing day, so much so that I have given up trying to predict or plan anything. At least on this occasion, Azura be thanked, I wasn’t threatened, or wounded by a rat, or attacked by a highwayman.

I left Chorrol at 3 A.M. this morning, assuming everyone would be asleep, and moving under cover of darkness to avoid being sighted by Earana. Fortunately, that old hag was sleeping in the Grey Mare tavern, where I could see all the lights had been put out. However, several characters were up and about, undeterred by the late hour, and moving to the glow of the street lamps. I spotted a young female Dunmer near the fountain, talking to a guard, who was obviously enjoying the company during his long night shift.

Frankly, she had his attention to such an extent that she could probably have stolen his key to the barracks from under his nose. (The guards in Chorrol, as everywhere, it seems, have a weakness for the ladies. I don’t blame them. It must be hard living your whole life in a barracks, surrounded by members of the same sex, living to a routine, with no chance to ever have any fun. That Dunmer will probably be the only woman that guard sees during his day-to-day life. And if the captain catches him, then may Azura have mercy on him!)

As they were exchanging banter, I overheard the guard say “Reynald Jemane has a terrible memory. We’ve met many times, but when I saw him in Cheydinhal the other day, he walked right past me like we were strangers!” The guard, totally oblivious to my presence on account of his absorption in the attractive Dunmer, then tried to impress her by showing her the pommel and blade of his standard-issue longsword. Ironically, I was just about to meet this Jemane fellow.

As I exited Chorrol and clambered onto the back of Mellt-taran, I managed to gallop about twenty paces, in the direction of a small priory to the Nine Divines, when Mellt-taran whinnied and came to stop. A Breton, holding a bottle of ale in his left hand, and a shortsword in the scabbard on his left hip, was singing ‘Sweet Lady of Wayrest’, loudly, in the direction of the priory. All the while, he staggered around ungainly, much to the unsettlement of my mount.

After a short while, a young Imperial monk with a dark-brown tonsure came running out of the priory house’s doors, shouting at him to “shut up, for Talos’ sake”, while gesticulating with his own sword, which I noticed as one of fine Akaviri design. I thought the two were going to come to blows, but fortunately another monk came out, this one apparently Breton with a golden tonsure, and brokered a peace settlement: the drunkard would agree to stand off and pipe down, in exchange for a bottle of ‘Weynon ale’.

All parties apparently happy with this arrangement, the monks went inside and the drunkard approached me. Reeking of ale, with stained clothes to match, he introduced himself as Reynald Jemane, then sputtered out something about going to Cheydinhal and finding a fellow who looks like him, and pressed a pouch containing 50 septims into my hands. I don’t know quite how, but it seems I have agreed to look for his impostor. No harm; I shall be going to Cheydinhal for my recommendation anyhow.

Mellt-taran and I arrived here at Wawnet at 10 A.M. She is tied to a tree outside; she will not go back to the Chestnut Handy Stables. I am exhausted. Time to sleep now…..

This post has been edited by Ceidwad: May 15 2011, 01:17 AM

So Gwen turned the book over to Teekeus (which of course you have to eventually do if you want to join the guild). But should she really be surprised that Earana is furious at her? Gwen did betray her after all. I loved how she sneaked out of the city in the middle of the night to avoid Earana's notice.

An amusing encounter with everyone's favorite drunken Breton. Having the monks arguing with him to shut up was just priceless. Now I see how he gets his booze!


nits:
I saw something which is not technically an error as it is how you see it in the game. Consider this some purely flavor-based advice, and feel free to ignore.

Legionnaire is a French word, and refers to members of the French Foreign Legion. Why Bethesda decided to use it when they otherwise went out of their way to use the Roman Legions as their template for the Imperial Legion (and Latinized names in general for Imperials) is beyond me. OTOH, Legionary is the Latin word, which the Romans used for members of their legions. Use whichever one you feel is appropriate.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: May 15 2011, 01:17 AM

'He seemed satisfied with my work and promised to write a recommendation for me. That is the least I deserve after that journey. '
This is so magnificently Gwen!

I'm so glad to see the way she handled Earana. After all, Gwen has what she came for and does not necessarily expect to return to Chorrol, so simply slipping out of town was the perfect choice for her.

A good introduction of the Jemane quest via the flirting guard. Then a simply brilliant segue into 'assigning' the quest to Gwen at Weynon Priory. As she rightfully points out, it is no golden skin off her nose as she is headed to Cheydinhal anyway.

This post has been edited by Acadian: May 15 2011, 01:17 AM

Another irregular update. 'Harald Steel-Quill' has been idle lately.

SubRosa - Acknowleged on the 'legionnaire/legionary' thing. I agree with your point of view and have changed it. One imagines that Reynald has gained quite a few flasks of ale from charitable Chapel types over the years; Piner, however, is maybe not so charitable. Good for Reynald that Maborel was there to sort the quarrel out!

Acadian - Indeed, very sneaky from Gwen, though the tides of fate may bring her back to Chorrol rather sooner than she would like. Let's hope it doesn't end badly!

Next up: Gwen prepares for her next recommendation in Cheydinhal, and meets an old acquaintance and a new one.

First Seed 25, 3E430 – Wawnet Inn

12 P.M.

It has been nice to have a couple of days to recuperate here at the Wawnet Inn. This has been the first time in a while I have not been worried about my health in some way. Nerussa, the publican, is around my age. Her family is also from Alinor originally, but moved here to Cyrodiil around the time of her birth. Now she runs this homely inn. We exchanged opinions on wine, politics and history yesterday, whilst the legionnaries who normally frequent the tavern were out on patrol and the inn was mercifully peaceful. Her family is not particularly wealthy, but all Altmer learn about Tamrielic history and politics from a young age, even the humblest peasants in Alinor.

It seems she is a fan of Barenziah, and enjoys reading about Ayleid history when she can. However, as she told me, “by the end of the month…..it’s usually a struggle to get enough food for myself and our patrons, and keep our beds clean. I wish I had enough gold to buy the latest books, but I don’t. I have to make do with borrowing from scholars in the City when I can.” I think I will leave a tip here for her. I counted my septims this morning. Including the 50 that Reynald gave me to fulfil our little ‘agreement’, I have 623 remaining. I imagine I can spare 10 or so.

In some 20 days, I will get the next instalment of 1,000 septims from mother and father. They would be appalled if they knew that, at present, I am not studying the art of Restoration with the brightest minds in Cyrodiil, but am instead running errands for beastfolk, albeit enlightened ones. I have drafted a letter to my parents; full of lies, of course. I couldn’t possibly tell them the truth.

Editor’s note: this letter, despite the full co-operation of the author’s family, could not be tracked down. However, we can guess at the sentiments expressed in it: it is likely that its author wrote enthusiastically about Cyrodiil and invented some tales about university life based on what she already knew about it from various sources. Her frank honesty in her journals is one of their great strengths as a historical resource: one can always be sure that what she writes is exactly how she felt. It is rather naïve, in all honesty. Very few are the leaders who allow their flaws to be seen in this way; indeed, initially the present-day Mages’ Guild hierarchy was reluctant to allow an unedited version of her journals to be published, although the author signalled her willingness to proceed.

8 P.M.

I have just returned from the Imperial City, where I gave my letter to the captain of a reputable vessel, and shopped for provisions. Whilst in the Market District, I visited Rindir’s Staffs again. I regret that I have never owned a staff before; I recall that my parents would not allow me to use theirs until I reached the age of 50 when, according to tradition, Altmer become adults. Even then, I was not allowed to use one in earnest; my parents trained me in their use with a staff enchanted with Charm magic. This was, in fact, weaker than charm spells I could cast.

I look forward to the day when I will have a powerful, real, staff, like the one my father wields at the court of Alinor. Alas, that day will not be today. Rindir sells staves starting at 850 septims, and these are themselves rather weak Telekinesis staves. Rindir was kind enough to show me his most powerful staff; a beauty named Apotheosis. It is on sale for 5,500 septims; Rindir claims it is a snip at that price.
Truly, it would be a great aid. The only weapon I possess at this moment is the silver dagger I took from the guild hall in Chorrol, and it is little more than symbolic in its protection. Yet, staff or no staff, I am leaving for Cheydinhal tomorrow. I will rely on Mellt-taran’s gainly gallop to keep me from harm.

First Seed 26, 3E430 – Roxey Inn, north of Imperial City

3 P.M.

I am writing this in the upstairs room of the Roxey Inn. The journey has been uneventful, but it rained for much of the morning and early afternoon, and has started again now. My robe is presently warming by the fire, and I have managed to get a decent meal (by Cyrodilic standards, at any rate) of leek, potato, cheese and wine, from the Surilie vineyards in Skingrad. The roads here near the Imperial City are well-patrolled by Legion soldiers – I have encountered several on my journey today. Security, at least in this part of the province, rivals that in Alinor, even if the food, wine, and general level of civilisation lag behind.

The proprietor here is a Nord. She was clearly not blessed much by the gods with beauty nor intelligence. She is, however, friendly and polite.

Cheydinhal awaits, either tonight or tomorrow, depending on when the rain ceases. Meantime, I have re-read the book The Black Arts on Trial. One cannot read that book without having great respect for the wisdom of Arch-Mage Traven and the rigour of Magister Karlyss, and trepidation at the cunning and sly ways of the Necromancer, Magister gra-Kogg. It is clear that Necromancy is a great danger. In Summurset Isle, it is widely hated but not officially banned unlike in Morrowind, and my parents would often tell me of dark rituals reputedly carried out in the laboratories of several eminent mages, often including those held in good standing by the royal court. It is a shadowy art in more than one sense.

This post has been edited by Ceidwad: Jun 3 2011, 01:43 AM

A delightful continuation of Gwen's journey as she meets new people! I love the vestiges of her Altmer snobbery that now seem to be easing somewhat in temper and tolerance for what seems to be her new homeland and its variety of folk. I see that in these wonderful snips:
'am instead running errands for beastfolk, albeit enlightened ones.'
'and I have managed to get a decent meal (by Cyrodilic standards, at any rate)'

And here we see that Gwen, after some reading has declared herself:
'It is clear that Necromancy is a great danger.'

Very enjoyable!


Nit: 'I wish <I> had enough gold to buy the latest books, but I don’t.'
I think you want an 'I' where have inserted one.

The proprietor here is a Nord. She was clearly not blessed much by the gods with beauty nor intelligence. She is, however, friendly and polite.

I do enjoy Gwen’s take on things. Here she states a truth as she sees it without any meanness, then looks on the bright side. I am enjoying her journey.

Acadian - Indeed, this tour of Cyrodiil is becoming a real eye-opener for affluent, well-spoken Gwen. You are also right to observe that her tolerance for her new surroundings has appeared to be growing, with some grudging acceptance of her plight. However, what she will witness in Cheydinhal will set that tolerance back some way!

Grits - Thanks for commenting. I do aim to write her as not being a bad person, just incredibly cloistered in her upbringing. You are correct to say that she does not mean ill by her comments about Malene.

Next: Confusion in Cheydinhal, as the reccomendation proves somewhat difficult to pin down. Let's find out why!

First Seed 27, 3E430 – Cheydinhal Bridge Inn

10 P.M.

The rain eventually stopped at about midday today. The journey from Roxey Inn was uneventful. Two Legion soldiers greeted me along the road, one of whom had just finished putting down an imp – a common sight on these roads. As we exchanged greetings, I noticed his eyebrows were somewhat frazzled, and his limbs moved even more stiffly than one would normally expect from a man forced into such an unwieldy suit of armour. No doubt this was a result of the shock magic that imps wield. Mercifully, they do so without any great power in the majority of cases. Indeed, despite my own deficiencies in the art of destruction, I am fairly certain even I would outmatch the winged beasts!

Cheydinhal is a quaint city. The architecture is quite different to the Colovian cities of Skingrad and Chorrol, and there are many Dunmer here. It is similar to things I heard of cities in the province of Morrowind, except that the Nine Divines are solidly entrenched here. The local chapel is dedicated to Arkay, and is very similar to the one in Skingrad.

The inn I am staying at tonight is obscenely overpriced – 40 septims for a rather modest little room, of which the publican frankly thinks too much. She is, as I found out from my brief conversation with her, an admirer of a writer named Alessia Ottus, and invited me to read her guide to the city. I have just looked at it. It is small wonder that the publican recommended it, since the book heaps praise on her establishment. There is nothing special about the inn. Compared to the Tiber Septim Hotel, which offers similar rates, it is like the subterranean caves goblins must abide with.

It can only be said that it is better than the other inn in Cheydinhal. By Azura, in all my years on Nirn I have never seen such an uncouth place. Even the Fo’c’s’le in Anvil has the appearance of being slightly more hospitable. As soon as I opened the door, my senses met with an array of offensive sights, sounds, and smells, amongst the worst of which was an Orsimer who belched in my face. Immediately, I left the place, which is called the Newlands Lodge.

I am forced to take these steps because the Mages Guild hall was locked when I arrived at around 8 P.M., hoping to meet the local guildmates and learn more about my recommendation task. I was unable to open it with the key I had been provided by Raminus Polus which unlocks all doors to guild halls in Cyrodiil. I can only assume that it had been magically locked. Hopefully, I will find out more about what happened tomorrow, assuming the hall is re-opened.

Meanwhile, I am looking out of my second-floor window at the night sky in Cheydinhal. It is a clear night, and the streets are filled with people loitering around, talking, and in the case of several Orsimer that I have seen, staggering out of the Newlands Lodge drunkenly. Speaking of drunks, that reminds me of the promise I made to Reynald. I have not seen anyone who matches his appearance thus far, but I will ask the guild mages tomorrow. If I can, that is.

First Seed 28, 3E430 – Cheydinhal Mages Guild

1 P.M.

I still do not have a recommendation assignment. The leader of the Cheydinhal chapter is absent, as I have discovered. Some light has however been shed on the events of last night.

When I arrived at the guild hall, I was greeted by a tall Redguard with an unruly mop of hair, who introduced himself as “Trayvond”. He invited me into the dining room of the hall and asked who I was, all the while thoughtfully stroking his smooth-skinned chin with his right fingers, and adjusting the collar of his guild-issue blue robe. I explained that I was an associate – no, not truly an associate, but one who had been forced to walk the associate’s path. I asked what had happened the previous evening and why I had been unable to unlock the door.

He poured some wine into a ceramic goblet for each of us, and said that the leader of the chapter, an Altmer called Falcar, was prone to spectacular bursts of verbal violence, and that last night was one such circumstance.

“He hates to be disturbed at any time, but particularly so when he’s giving us a tongue-lashing. Last night, he was lecturing all of us because someone broke an alembic. Of course, no-one would own up to it, so we all faced the wrath of that man. He’s never been physically or magickally abusive – at least not yet – but I would caution you to watch yourself around him, my friend. Most of the time, he’s no harm, but that’s because he hardly ever looks up from his desk in the basement. Arkay help you if you catch him in a bad mood, though.” Trayvond told me that Falcar left the guild hall this morning on a visit to the Imperial City to discuss guild matters with the Arch-Mage, Hannibal Traven, and should return this evening.

I sincerely hope that Trayvond is right about Falcar never becoming physically violent. I managed to flee Earana’s wrath, but what if Falcar turns hostile? I can hardly run away again. I must get these recommendations, no matter how trying and unjust they may be. Otherwise, what is there for me in Alinor? My only path is that of the Arcane University; it is the only route to the royal court back home. I will return to the guild hall later this evening.

Meantime, there are no leads in finding Reynald’s double. None of the guild mages present knew. Trayvond said that he would like to help, but as he rarely stepped outside the guild hall, he knew very few people in town. The other mages here include two of my fellow Altmer, a sister and a brother, who are a married couple.* They both responded to my question politely, but explained that they only socialized with others once a week, at some party held in a place called Riverview.

*Editor’s Note: The wording of this passage has, rather humorously, been taken to imply incest by at least one confused writer. An undistinguished Imperial historian, Roderis Aurelius, has commented that ‘this kind of behaviour among her kind is exactly why we should not trust the words of an elf.’ (see Aurelius, Cyrodiil and the Empire, chapter 23) It goes without saying that Aurelius is sympathetic to many of the ideas of Martinus, and thus mortally opposed to the views of our elven mage. However, his personal attack on the Arch-Mage is not only a poor argument, it is also incorrect. What the writer meant, of course, was not that the married Altmer mages were related, but that she was referring to them as a fraternal brother and sister of hers. This kind of mentality is very strong among all elves, and it is common for them to use familial terms to refer to each other.

This post has been edited by Ceidwad: Jun 5 2011, 09:45 PM

Editor's Note: ROFL !!! I remember Foxy and I went for at least 15 chapters thinking one writer (who shall go unnamed lest her Rumple tease ye) - had inferred incest between Morgiah and Helseth. Somehow she missed our less than obscure references to that belief - till we blatently mentioned something about it - where she promptly disabused our warped minds, ROFL !!!! Poor Rumple, she was writing a clean history, and we were reading a hot novel into it, ROFL !!!

I finally got some free time to read, sorry it took so long !! Great Write !!!

I very much like the delays you are weaving into this recommendation quest for poor Gwen to deal with.

'Compared to the Tiber Septim Hotel, which offers similar rates, it is like the subterranean caves goblins must abide with.'
I found this passage very immersive as Gwen compared the two familiar inns to equally familiar goblin caves. This was written from the perspective of someone who is living in Cyrodiil.

I love how you worked with the editor's note. As I read the passage in question, the same thoughts occurred to me; however, since I travel with an elf myself, I knew exactly what Gwen meant. Then you cleared up the perfectly reasonable (from an Imperial's perspective) question brilliantly through the editor's note. Wonderfully done!

...but am instead running errands for beastfolk, albeit enlightened ones.
She isn't running errands for Kud-Ei yet!

I really enjoyed the editors note in the middle of post #46. After specifically mentioning Nerussa reading about Barenziah, Harald's remarks about the Mages Guild wanting to put out an edited version of Gwen's letters was just perfect.

Methinks Gwen's mention of re-reading The Black Arts on Trial is a bit of foreshadowing. Now we know her opinion of Necromancers. I expect the Cheydinhal recommendation will only reinforce her beliefs.

I loved Gwen's feelings for both the inns of Cheydhinhal. 40 septims is indeed insane for the Cheydihnal Bridge Inn. Her brief, but unpleasant, experience at the Newlands gave me a more than faint smile.

Establishing Falcar's temper was a good example of laying foundations for his future behaviour. Assuming the recommendation quest goes as it does in the game, now it will not seem so unexpected.

Finally Harald's second editorial note about brother and sister was again a welcome addition. I did assume that Gwen meant it the way Harald pointed out, but can see how someone else - especially someone looking for faults to poke in elves - could construe it as incestuous.

mALX - Wow, I don't know who this Rumple is, but I'm glad this gave you a chance to reminisce! Glad you're finding time to read this. I wondered if people would really find the incest bit funny - it seemed a bit predictable to me, but I'm glad I posted it cause it seems to have done the trick!

Acadian - Glad you're enjoying the delays. They are partly there for character development reasons, and partly to stretch the story over a realistic period of time. In-game, of course, you can complete quest-lines and rise to the head of factions in perhaps a month of game days. I think this is wildly unrealistic and always roleplayed a bit of a gap when playing Oblivion. The exception being the Main Quest - I think the constraints there (i.e. Tamriel is burning) make it difficult to roleplay someone who dallies around for weeks between quests.

SubRosa - Oh, Mara's mercy, don't get me started on Kud-Ei's errands! I think I started that quest with one of my earlier characters but ended up reloading an earlier save after so much frustration trying to complete it. Suffice to say, Gwen won't be going there for a long time.

Thanks for those observations! You are indeed right about the Black Arts section foreshadowing future events. It would be stupid to have her talk about the Necromancers' Cult without any direct experience, so having her read The Black Arts on Trial (something I actually did in-game) is a nice way of breaking it in. Falcar is also introduced at this point, as you say just to lay the foundations and give a bit mor drama to the recommendation quest.

Next: How will things continue in Cheydinhal? Could be a tough one....

Midnight.

Oh, no. What am I to do? The recommendation task I have received from Falcar….could he really be trying to kill me? Did he kill another associate?* No, the guild could not possibly allow a murderer to lead the chapter. It must be in Deetsan’s head….and yet I must be prepared for the possibility. Did Falcar not say something about ‘being prepared’ himself? I must be ready to react if there does prove to be a threat to my life. Deetsan’s spell will help, I hope. But why would Falcar put his own Associates in danger? What would he gain? There is no reason for it. I’m sure it must be paranoia from Deetsan. But that Argonian seemed perfectly sane otherwise…..

Why, oh why, did I leave Alinor? Was it only so I could end my life here? In a well in Cyrodiil, another forgotten Altmer who failed to make the step into maturity? No, Gwen. Calm down. Practice your spell. Let the magicka flow from your hand, gently altering the properties of objects….manipulate the flow with your mental focus. Good. The silver tankard seems lighter. Now, bring the water to your lips and put some in your mouth. Yes, I am doing it! I can breathe the water, if only for a short while. I do not even know how I am doing it. Deetsan just told me ‘believe, and rely on the magicka within, associate.’

I cannot possibly sleep. The well awaits. I will see if Deetsan’s fears were true! If I fail to emerge alive….forgive me, mother and father.

*Editor’s note: In fact, not only did Falcar almost certainly deliberately kill the unfortunate associate, but two further associates were reported as missing to the Council of Mages during the two years that the Altmer headed the Cheydinhal chapter of the Mages Guild, as official records attest to. It is clear that ‘recommendation’ tasks assigned to Mages Guild associates were often far from benign.

First Seed 29, 3E430 – Cheydinhal Mages Guild

4 P.M.

It is resolved. I live to cast another spell, obtain another recommendation, perform another deadly task. And Falcar has left, to an unknown location. Deetsan’s fears were correct, and more, and it is only thanks to her wise instruction that I live on. The other members of the guild have expressed their great relief that I am safe. Eilonwy and Orintur embraced me upon finding out that I was alive, and Trayvond offered words of comfort and a sweetroll, which I gratefully accepted. Many of the mages were unsure if I was unharmed as a result of having been gone so long.

Last night, having left the guild hall shortly after my last entry, I could not face the well immediately and walked around town for nearly three hours gathering my composure. As dawn approached, I finally worked up my courage, spoke a silent prayer and put the key to the lock on the well’s grate.

All that I could see inside was darkness. I recalled a silent incantation I had learned at a very young age to see in the dark. I then dropped my robe at the well entrance and very cautiously stepped in. All the while, I was rehearsing the procedure for the spell Deetsan had taught me, which enabled me to simultaenously breathe in water, and carry additional weight. I cast the spell and submerged. I am a poor swimmer, so I must have been fumbling around like a fool. It is difficult to recall one’s precise technique when one is paralysed by fear, however.

Then, I saw a body. This must have been the associate Deetsan and Falcar had told me about. The ring would not budge. I began to panic, and tried to cast the spell Deetsan had taught me. But to my horror, it failed. I tried again. Once more the water filled my lungs, and the ring held me in place with its magic. Desperately, I cast it a third time. Success! I breathed as naturally as though I was in the fresh air of the courtyard in the palace of Alinor, and slowly fumbled my way to the surface. I emerged into faint sunlight, silently thanking Azura and trembling, partly because of being wet and cold, and partly because of fear.

After this ordeal, I was so exhausted that I could not face returning to Falcar. After all, what if he had planned to kill me? Would he now try to attack me? Thoughts raced through my mind at the time, although I now know I am safe. I ended up eating a breakfast at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn. The proprietor there stared at me as I gnawed uncertainly on a loaf of bread, allowing what had happened to sink in.

I returned to the guild hall at 10 A.M., feeling wary. Trayvond greeted me. He said that Falcar had left during the night, but he had no idea why or where he went. He suggested I talk to Deetsan. After speaking with her, it was clear that she had confronted him. She said that she told Falcar she would report him to the council, upon which he left in a blaze of curses and threats.

It would seem we have found the reason for the death of the other associate and also Falcar’s motives. Two black soul gems in his study desk prove that he practices the dark arts. I shudder as I ponder the thought that my soul might have occupied one of them. Deetsan has asked me to remain in Cheydinhal to give testimonial evidence to a member of the Council of Mages, who will arrive tomorrow. The soul gems and the Ring of Burden will form the other part of the evidence, as will the associate’s body, which will then be buried in the graveyard of the chapel of Arkay here.

I have learned that the life of an associate is neither pleasant nor safe. What will be next for me?

Gwen climbing out of the well and nervously going out for breakfast will stay with me. She writes that a Council member will take over as is appropriate, without expressing tears over the other associate’s fate. It seems very Gwen to report how she is carrying out her responsibilities, with some thoughts about the danger to herself. It must have been quite a shock to realize that she had been sent to her death by a fellow Altmer. She’s even too upset to report her cash flow situation.

I have learned that the life of an associate is neither pleasant nor safe. What will be next for me?

She is going forward anyway, not crying her way back home. Go Gwen!

This was well done and so very in keeping with Gwen and your style. She seemed to find it hard to believe that Falcar would mean her harm and the fact that the warning came from an Argonian perhaps carried less weight. Again, her subtle 'Altmerism' is perfectly done. I'm getting used to the Editor's Notes and actually quite enjoying them now - I was a bit neutral on them at first, but they surely do seem to fit right in to what you are trying to do.

All in all, Gwen's progress continues to be a pleasure to read!

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jun 16 2011, 12:30 AM

Acadian - I'm glad you like the Editor's notes. They are a useful tool for letting me break into an aside without compromising the realism of the format, in other words having Gwen report things that would be impossible or highly improbable for her to know, or to actually report in a journal. They also let me explore Cyrodiil through a historian's eyes - watch for some interesting and humorous ones coming later!

Grits - To be honest, it is more of a shock to Gwen that the Guild would allow such a malefactor as Falcar to remain in charge of the Cheydinhal chapter as it is to know that Altmer are bad people. Her racial prejudice is a trait, but it's not absolute. She recognises Deetsan's ability and wisdom in the last episode, for instance, and previously showed knowledge of the dark arts in Alinor.

However, you are definitely spot-on when you notice the absence of cash-flow musings. Normally, this would be ticking over in her mind, but naturally this is not the case here (understandably!). And thanks for noticing too her determination to keep going. This is definitely one of her character traits, along with racial prejudice, fiscal prudence, high-mindedness and intolerance for less supmtuous surroundings. It will eventually see her through to the Arcane University, and not a moment too soon (Raminus be cursed for inflicting the ignominy of the reccomendations circuit on her!)

Next up: The Guild's representative arrives in Cheydinhal and interviews Gwen, who then plots her next move.

5 P.M.

The guild’s third-in-command, a Bosmer called Bothiel, who is assistant to Raminus Polus, arrived at the Cheydinhal Mages Guild hall at 12 P.M. to examine the evidence for necromancy. Upon arriving, she and Deetsan went to the basement for nearly two hours, no doubt proceeding to pore over the soul gems and the cursed ring, which claimed one life and so nearly claimed mine. After they had discussed the situation, Deetsan came out and asked me to go downstairs and give testimony to the guild regarding Falcar’s actions.

Bothiel then questioned me about the events of the 28th and 29th. She asked me what Falcar had said and done on the days in question, whether he had threatened anyone at the guild and so on - and then put the cursed items in front of me and asked me to confirm that I had discovered them in Falcar’s room. I did so, expressing my firm belief that Falcar was a necromancer, an offence in guild law since Hannibal Traven became Arch-Mage.

The civil authorities may not prosecute him, I added, but if the Guild shuns Falcar and his associates, we may be stronger for it. Bothiel reassured me that “no necromancer shall ever be tolerated in the Guild while I serve it, associate.”

Clearly, this woman was skilled in the arts of speechcraft. She had a friendly, authoritative manner, but her eyes remained fixed on mine throughout in a way that let me know she meant serious business. Before she had questioned me, she summarily tackled the thorny issue that still lay between myself and Arcane University, with a skill that was so consummate as to appear effortless. “My sincerest apologies for the misunderstanding with your acceptance letter, associate. I trust that you do not hold this against the Guild?”

Although I deeply resent this slight, I was so taken by the forwardness of the blue-robed Bosmer that I could but reply with a stuttered “No, Madam Wizard”. Whereas Raminus had tried to bat me off with excuses before, Bothiel was much more direct. And yet, at the same time, affable. As I was leaving, she said, “When you complete your recommendation tasks, do come and see me at the University. The orrery there is most spectacular. Every student of our magickal world should see it.”

Bothiel has just left after speaking to the other mages. Even the way she walks exudes authority. Oddly, for a Bosmer, she has adapted to civilised customs and her passion and zeal, whilst visible to all, is clearly under control.

10 P.M.

I have just been reminded about that drunk, Reynald. In the circumstances of the last few days I had (naturally) completely forgotten about his double. Trayvond brought it up this evening over a communal meal of venison, potatoes, and corn. I will look for him tomorrow. It will provide a diversion. In any case, I am not ready to undertake another one of these gods-forsaken recommendation quests yet.

Over dinner, which was cooked by Eilonwy, I got the chance to get to know the local mages better. Eilonwy and Orintur said they met for the first time here in Cheydinhal some twenty years ago. He had been a travelling apprentice studying at the Arcane University at the time, whilst Eilonwy had been an apprentice alchemist here at the guild hall.

His eyes sparkling with pride and delight, Orintur told me: “As soon as I set eyes on her, all thoughts of becoming a Master-Wizard in the Guild went out of the window. You know, I used to serve as High Chancellor Ocato’s apprentice, back when he was no politician, but a Wizard with great potential, tipped to become Arch-Mage one day. To think, had I stuck with him, I might have gained greatly from his patronage, maybe even rising to political power myself. But I would have been much less happy. I truly love Eilonwy; give me a happy life anyday over a rich or powerful one.”

A very admirable sentiment, I said, though of course being rich and powerful always helps one in the pursuit of happiness!

This post has been edited by Ceidwad: Jun 17 2011, 11:57 PM

I quite love the idea that you took the time to detail the inevitable investigation the guild would launch after an incident as major as the one involving Falcar. And Bothiel was a good choice.

'Oddly, for a Bosmer, she has adapted to civilised customs and her passion and zeal, whilst visible to all, is clearly under control.'
This was a relief. I was beginning to feel left out of Gwen's delightful opinions regarding other races! Those darn little Bosmer! At least this one kept her clothes on. And she didn't giggle, plant her hands on her hips defiantly, smile faintly or even bite her lower lip. Or any of that other typical Bosmeri behavior. She doesn't live in the trees or even carry a bow!

Ah, it looks like back to Reynald's mystery before leaving Cheydinahal.

I thoroughly enjoyed the time Gwen spent telling us about Orintur and Eilonwy.

A good depiction of Gwen's swirling thoughts at the beginning, as she wrestles with the question of who to trust, and who not to. Her decision to practice her spell to calm herself was excellent. By keeping her mind busy, and doing something she could influence, she regained her wits. Very realistic behavior, and very wise of her.

I wonder how many prospective students die every year trying to get into the Arcane University? Twenty, a hundred? I think you would be safer in the Arena, rather than the Mages Guild!

Bothiel coming from the IC to investigate was a good touch of reality. It is the kind of thing the game misses out on doing, because it is a game, and wants to get you to the next quest. I also loved seeing Gwen's Altmerness rising at the end of her meeting, as she noted how civilized Bothiel was, and her ability to keep her excitable Bosmer nature under control.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 19 2011, 10:59 PM

Despite her low rank in the Guild, Gwen shows some leadership here. After she answers Botheil’s questions, she offers her recommendation for how the Guild should handle Falcar. Then her assessment of Bothiel shows that she is already thinking like someone who has authority and subordinates. Her description of the Bosmer effusiveness as “passion and zeal” made me like her even more, and of course that whole statement made me chuckle.

Acadian - Thanks! Gwen could never leave Bosmer females out of her catalogue of racial stereotypes. Who knows, she may later encounter giggling, faint-smiling, lower lip-biting, bow-toting, blonde or red-haired Bosmer. And the betting is that she'll probably say they don't look much like mages.

SubRosa - Thanks for noticing the internal wrestling that went on during that episode. Very perceptive too about the spell-casting being a soothing distraction from fears and doubts. I imagine casting spells is to mages what using the rosary is to Catholics. It certainly worked here.

I felt there had to be a little pause after this quest. No way could a real person carry on with the recommendations as if nothing had happened. And the guild also needed to respond to the news as you say. The way I will describe things here is not strictly how I actually played them in-game, but they are close enough and tie up the loose ends nicely.

Grits - Good call on the leadership. I see Gwen's 'leadership' as being a product of her high opinion of herself. She sees herself largely as the equal of the more senior guild members and sees the recommendations as beneath her. She has little qualms about giving opinions to the actual Guild leadership, therefore.

Next up: With the Cheydinhal reccommendation behind her and with no appetite for further life-threatening tasks at this point, Gwen instead seeks out Reynald's impostor, with unexpected results.

First Seed 31, 3E430 – Cheydinhal

12 P.M.

No success finding Reynald’s doppelganger yet. My walk-search around town has yielded little, except some scuffs on my gold trimmed shoes.

5 P.M.

Reynald’s ‘double’ is actually his twin brother, named Guilbert, as I found out from a town guard. I have just met him. He is a terrible impostor, being totally sober (in spite of his surroundings). Azura have mercy, the poor fellow spends his days in the tavern known as the Newlands Lodge. I imagine I would be forced to take to drink just to find some escape from the intolerable conditions, not to mention the regulars.

Thanks to a tip-off from the guard, I made my way to the Newlands Lodge about two hours ago. Mercifully, it is at least quiet at this time of day, meaning I did not have to contend with the rabble of Orsimer I saw there the other day. The publican pointed me upstairs to Guilbert’s room. And, would you believe it, the Breton was the spitting image of his brother. He even wore the same style of outfit; green with blue trim and brown hose, though, unlike his brother’s, these were conspicuous for their lack of ale stains.

Not wanting to give the game away at first, I asked him what he was doing in Cheydinhal.

He replied, “Used to be Fighters Guild here in Cheydinhal, but the jobs are pretty scarce these days. Can’t even get a contract killing rats, cause any and all jobs go to the higher-ranking members. So, I quit. Been trying to set myself up as an independent, but the security’s terrible. I’ve had to sell my steel cuirass and warhammer just to keep up my tab here at the Lodge.”

I asked him if he had a brother. Yes, he said, but he had died when both of them were young.

“Guilbert,” I said, “your brother’s alive. He lives in Chorrol.”

At this, the expression on Guilbert’s face turned from one of unhappy apathy to one of excitement and wonder. His green eyes sparkled, and the tone of his voice picked up noticeably.

“He’s alive? Well, we have to go and see him at once! I’ll settle up here, and we can leave tomorrow morning for Chorrol, post-haste. I can’t believe it! I thought for certain he had perished. Thank you, stranger. What is your name?”

“Gwenyan.”

“Thank you, Gwenyan. Will you go with me to Chorrol?”

I had to think about this. Do I want to go back to Chorrol? Not really. Earana will be there, and the whole Fingers of the Mountain acrimony still hangs over the guild hall there. But, if I can survive the worst efforts of a dastardly necromancer like Falcar, then I am certain Earana would not succeed in harming me. Well, not in broad daylight, at least, with the guards watching…..

Therefore, I have decided to go with Guilbert. His brother did pay me in gold, after all. We leave early tomorrow. We will meet by the statue outside the Mages Guild.

Rain’s Hand 1, 3E430 – Roxey Inn

12 P.M.

Guilbert and I are just stopping here for a quick lunch before leaving for Chorrol. The weather is fine and the only notable incident so far has been the appearance of a wolf, which was swiftly dispatched by a passing legionary. On the road we talked about Guilbert’s family. Apparently, his mother was killed in an attack on their farm when Guilbert and Reynald were children, and he assumed Reynald had been killed too. Their father, he said, was a farmer and ran the family’s estate until he suddenly disappeared years ago.

Guilbert also asked me about my story: what was I doing in Cyrodiil? I told him the whole tale: promising mage student specialising in Restoration, unjustly turned away at the university, forced to do these recommendation quests, but frankly, at her wits’ end by this point with the feral Khajiit and rogue mages and death-trap wells and struggling bitterly to survive. Guilbert offered words of sympathy, saying that guild hierarchies cared little about the rank-and-file in the Fighters Guild as in the Mages Guild, and he knew the feeling.

Guilbert, it would seem, is a bit rusty with warhammers. He is using an old iron one, taken from the Fighters Guild as what Guilbert called ‘a farewell gift’.

When we met at the statue at about 8 A.M., he paused to give me a magnificent demonstration of his great skill. As it turned out, my mouth gaped open in laughter, rather than awe. Holding the hammer above his head, he swung it fiercely around his body in a circular motion……..and lost his grip on it, sending it flying across Cheydinhal’s cobble stones. A sheepish ‘sorry, guv’nor’ was his reply to the irate town guardsman he nearly pulverized in the process. Clearly, the lack of jobs in his guild has affected his technique adversely. I teased him about it all the way to Roxey!

Guilbert has just informed me that he has finished his plate of mashed potato and beef steak, and is getting strapped back into his iron cuirass. To Chorrol!