A Mages Web.
Chapter 1

Morndas, Second Seed. 3E 432.
Water's Edge, Cyrodiil.

The early morning light was just beginning to filter through the gaps in Eduard Retiene's shutters. Just enough for Darromesh to distinguish the varied supplies scattered on the rough clay floor of the small modest house.

Roughly, but quietly, she packed her worn travel bag. Not caring whether or not her lunch was squished between her "Manual Of Spellcraft" and "Fundamentals of Alchemy" texts. She blinked hard at the tears of rage and viciously shoved her mortar and pestle in the pocket of space she created between her tattered clothes. All the while she was muttering under her breath.

"Bloody drunken cur…" More random items were shoved into the pack.

"I'm just not going to put up with it anymore… I'm not." She found there was no room left for "Notes on Racial Phylogeny" so she started, angrily, pulling things out to make room for the book.

Wiping tears away again she noticed a shadow fall over her shoulder. Tilting her head and sniffling out a greeting she waited for her foster father to say something. Anything.
She heard the soft shuffling of rough clothes as the man knelt down and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Mesh… what is it this time?" He spoke gently, but she could read the exasperation in his eyes. This wasn't the first time she's sat in the middle of this room throwing random items into her bag.

"It's those fetchers at the White Stallion Lodge… again." She gave a weak sigh. How many times now has she said those exact words? Too often to count.

"Look, why don't you just get a job somewhere else? There's plenty of -" He was cut off abruptly by a snarl from the young white dunmer girl.

"NO! This time I mean it." She paused to wipe the tears. "I'm going to be a healer. A famous healer! I'll… I'll be rich and you and mum will be able to move to the Imperial City and live in a nice house. No more mucking out stables." She stood up straight and puffed up her chest, daring her father to challenge her goals.

"Hmmm…" Her Breton foster father had an odd look to his face, contemplative; yet there was an odd upwards curl to the corners of his mouth. "Famous and rich, just like that one healer… what's his name…?"

"Oh, ummm… Well, I don't think I know the names of any famous healers." She scrunched her white nose up in thought, trying to think of whom her father could be referring to.

"That's my point, Luv. There are no rich and famous healers. Healers are healers because they want to help people. Is that what you want to do?" He didn't sound mad, as he usually did when she threatened to run away, but he sounded firm. She had a decision to make and for once she felt he was behind her.

"Yes, that is what I want." As soon as the words left her lips she felt better. Relieved that a decision had been made, that she was finally doing something to solve her problems.

It was almost mid day when Darromesh finally arrived at the gates of Leyawiin. She passed through the open city gates and tilted her chin up slightly at the stares from the two guards on duty. Nothing could ruin her day now. She had the blessings of her parents, even though they weren't her real parents, she still felt it was important to honor and respect their opinions and advice. Of course, this was made all the easier when they agreed with what she wanted.

She smiled; spotting the Great Chapel of Zenithar just ahead, she put a light skip into her step.

The big oak doors were heavy and swung open with a creek. She stepped in and blinked trying to adjust her eyes to the dim interior. An Imperial man was walking towards her through the haze of coloured light filtering through the large tapered stained glass windows.

"Greetings Altm-… Dunmer?" He stammered a moment and then started again. "Greetings. I am Kantav Cheynoslin, primate of Zenithar. How can I help you?" Mesh ignored the initial slip up over her race, it happened all the time. It must be confusing to see a milk white Dunmer walking around. She smiled and tucked a strand of short white hair behind a pointed ear.

"Umm… I'd like to be a healer." She stated with a nod.

"Ah. You'll be wanting to speak with Silana then, she's our healer." He was about to turn and lead her to the back when he abruptly turned back to face her. His eyes ran up and down her length and she felt rather self-conscious under his scrutiny. He offered the girl a smile as she drew her shoulders in to ward off his gaze.

"Forgive me, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but Silana charges a base fee of 100 septims per training session. Depending on the level of training, of course." He paused a moment and continued. "This is… I mean… do you have the means to pay her for her services?" He waved his hand out in front of him waiting for a reply.

Mesh's hands instinctively went to the pockets of her travel pants. She was suddenly aware of how she must look. She was wearing grubby green sack pants and a flax tunic. All of which were covered in the dust from the road.

She wasn't carrying what little gold she had in her pockets; it was all in her pack. She might have enough for one training session, but not much more then that. She looked up at the Imperial and shook her head. He seemed to realize her problem; he smiled and laid a hand on her shoulder. She eyed the hand suspiciously but remained still. The Imperial man took no notice of the subtle protest.

"Not to worry, my dear. Why don't you go join the fighter's guild, or the mage's guild? There's good money there. You can come back in the evenings for training. I'll put in a good word for you with Silana." He smiled again, blissfully removing the hand from her shoulder. She nodded in reply and smiled at his kindness. She hoped it didn't look as strained as it felt.

The decorative double doors to the mages guild closed gently behind her. She was facing an open foyer. A Nord woman emerged from a room to her left and smiled.

"Hello there. I'm Agata. Do you need something?"

"I'm looking to join the mage's guild. I'm half decent with alchemy. Restoration is my passion though. Oh, and I know a little conjuration. Do you think you could use me?" She looked hopefully up into the woman's clear eyes. She smiled back.

"Oh, we could always use another set of hands around here, but you'll have to talk to Dagail about it, she's the archmagister here." Darromesh found herself ushered into a large study on the upper floor. After the initial introductions and a quick interview she was signed into the mage's guild as an associate. The aged Altmer woman closed her book and put down her quill.

"Ah, my dear child. A recommendation is something you seek. The key to your future, no less, do you consider it. I can help you in this quest of yours. You will learn skills needed to turn your key." Mesh shuffled her feet and smiled, not quite knowing what to say to such a statement. She waited for the other to continue. "I speak of potions. You will learn the secrets of many ingredients. But first, perhaps you could help me with one little problem…"

Morndas, Second Seed. 3E 432.
Chorrol, Cyrodiil.

The sound of the small crackling fire mixed with the smell of fried eggs and tomato were making Modryn's stomach growl. Fiddling with a stick he poked the little fire that was nestled in the circle of stones that was his cooking pit just out back of his house.

He leaned back against the boulder and absently used his poking stick to scrape mud from the bottom of his boots. Deciding his eggs were done, or at least that he was done waiting, he lifted the pan from the fire and made short work of his morning meal.

He had a lot to get done at the guild this morning, so couldn't afford to relax and enjoy the sunrise. He stretched his legs out and tossed the pan down next to the fire pit. At least with the tight schedule he didn't have to do the dishes. They would have to wait. He stood up stretching and put his iron cuirass on and strapped on his steel mace giving it a bit of a wiggle to get it in place.

He made his way around the back of the chapel to the fighter's guild. Stepping inside he went to work getting the place ready for the day. He unlocked all the doors and opened the shutters. He started the fire in the old wood stove and put the kettle on. One of the few luxuries the guild master afforded them was a bottomless pot of coffee.

He stumbled a moment, on his way to the front door, over a bow that had been carelessly left on the floor. He snarled a moment at the thing and made a note to talk to his men about leaving equipment lying about.

"Someone's got to teach them some discipline… They're going to get themselves killed." He muttered to himself, kicking the bow back towards its rack. Upon reaching the door he hauled in the large pack of papers that was sitting on the front step. He shuffled through the notes. He took the bills and other administrative papers up to Vilena Donton's desk, taking the various contracts down to the dining table. He tossed them down unceremoniously and sighed deeply. There weren't nearly as many contracts as there used to be.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down eyeing the bundle as if it were a rat about to bite him. He sipped at his coffee and finally decided it was time to get back down to business. He sorted the contracts according to which city they would be going to. There were a couple that would be completed by his men in Chorrol, these contracts he tucked into clipboards hanging on the wall. The others he tied up to be sent out with the guild's currier later in the morning.

He ran his hand over his bluish/grey forehead. He had a couple minutes before the others started trickling in, he closed his eyes and dosed, enjoying the sunlight on his face and the silence that surrounded him.

"Kurz gor-Baroth." Modryn looked up briefly from the clipboard in his hand.

"I want you and Lum gro-Baroth to head out to Pillaged Mine. The miners are complaining of goblins. Deal with it." Kurz gro-Baroth waved a massive meaty hand through the air.

"Yes, sir." He smiled and turned back towards the slab of mutton he had been working at. Modryn considered his profile a moment, but only a moment.

"Now. I want it done now. You two were late with your last contract. We can't afford to look bad these days. Get moving." He turned back to his clipboard.

"But I-" His stuttering was lost in the ensuing bellow.

"NOW!" Modryn didn't even bother to look up. He continued reading through the latest edition of the "Black Horse Currier", more news about the Blackwood Company; none of it good, at least not good for his guild. He let the paper fall to the table and watched Kurz and his brother walk out the door.

The Blackwood Company were becoming a problem. More and more people were turning to them to get contracts done. They were fast. A little too fast. How anyone could be that efficient was beyond his understanding. He passed a hand over his black Mohawk and sighed.

Picking up the paper again he started up the stairs. On his way up he batted at Sabine Laul's shoulder and wordlessly motioned for her to pick up that damned stray bow.
He casually knocked on the top of the railing at the top step to Vilena's office to get her attention.

"Got a minute?" He asked quietly.

"Certainly, Modryn, what's on your mind?" Inwardly Modryn winced. He hated the way the Imperial woman pronounced his name. For that matter, just about all non-Mer races got his name off. He let it slide, as he always did. There just wasn't any point.

"It's about the Blackwood Company…" He knew perfectly well that this conversation was a waste of time; in fact he already knew what the guild master was going to say.

"Modryn, we've been over this before." She turned back to her paper work with an exaggerated sigh. "There's nothing to be said about them."

"There is! They're good, too good, we're getting less and less contracts these days, we're loosing members."

"Well we can't force the people of Cyrodiil to bring their business to us, now can we?" She rolled her eyes and, once again, turned back to her papers. You don't roll your eyes at a Dunmer when he's trying to make a point. You just don't. Modryn renewed his effort in the matter having a hard time staying calm.

"I don't trust them. They're hiding something, they must be! Nobody is that good, even if their members were made up of seasoned Legion soldiers they couldn't be that good!" He started pacing back and forth in front of the guild master's desk.

"Modryn…" Her voice had a warning tone to it, but Modryn ignored her and pressed on, waving his hand through the air and talking faster.

"No… it needs looking into. Something's not right there. Look, I could take a few men out to Leyawiin and-" Modryn had just time to back up a step quickly. Vilena didn't just stand up; she shot up, slamming the bottoms of her palms onto the desk.

"Not another word, Modryn," She hissed. "There is nothing to be done here." She sat back down abruptly making it clear that the discussion was over. It had ended just the same as all the other times he had approached the issue. He turned away and sighed.