BACKGROUND
Beorhtulf was born in the Nord territory of Solstheim. When he was fifteen he was attacked by a werewolf near his village. Although badly mauled he managed to escape - he still bears scars from the beast's claws across his face. When he reached his majority at the age of seventeen he took the name Beorhtulf, which is 'bright-wolf'. Shortly afterwards he left the village for good, before the secret he'd hidden for two years was discovered - that he had himself contracted lycanthropy in the werewolf's attack. The village healer had been able to save his right eye, but Beorhtulf felt the irreparable damage to his soul.

As he made his way in the Nordish lands, he gained a reputation as a mage skilled in Destruction magic, and consequentially the name Fire-Hand. He had intended to try for enrolment in the Battlespire Academy, and its destruction by Jagar Tharn while Beorhtulf was in his twenties did not deter him from his chosen career of Imperial Legion Battlemage. He signed up in Skyrim, and served with the Legion for the next thirty-four years.

Throughout those years, his secret remained undisclosed, or at least unacknowledged. There were rumours, and jokes - 'watch out for Wolf, he'll have your throat out'. A local man was found on the outskirts of his village, torn to pieces - 'Wolf' was quietly moved to a different posting. He never confided in anybody about what to him was a wretched curse; he had no conscious control over the beast he became, but on waking could remember everything it/he had done. Even his wife, Agatha, he never told - she was certain of the truth, and it was a sadness to her that the distance of the wolf was always between them. But he loved her greatly, and when she died of an illness he was heartbroken.

Thus widowed, newly retired from the Legion, and wishing to see the Imperial Province for which he had spent over half his life fighting, Beorhtulf moved down to Cyrodiil.

STORY SO FAR
When Beorhtulf arrived, he found to his surprise and dismay that the Mages Guild was in uproar. The newly appointed Arch-Mage Hannibal Traven had banned Necromancy from the Guild. This had caused a split that ran all the way up to the Mage's Council, and a wave of resignations from mages of all ranks. As he toured Cyrodiil he found half-empty guildhalls in every city, Chapter heads who clearly only held their positions because there was no-one else available, or whose talent in flattery far outstripped their magical ability.

He had been a member of the Mages Guild for nearly forty years, and held the rank of Magician, but he had never involved himself with Guild politics, as his Legion duties took priority. He had approved of the previous Arch-Mage Ocato. Now he spent all of his time at the Arcane University, reading up on theory, practising and learning, cultivating a few of the higher ranked mages like Polus. A Magician, even one with forty years service, couldn't summon the political clout to deal with Traven, who was never even seen outside his tower. He needed to raise his rank.

In the event it proved not be be too difficult. With the upper echelons of the Guild thinned out by the resignations of Traven's opponents, promotion came quickly for an able mage. Four months after arriving at the University, he gained the rank of Warlock. Two months after that came the opportunity he had been working for - Polus declared him a Wizard, a rank that allowed him full access to the Council Chambers.

The next day Beorhtulf found Traven in the Council lobby and insisted on a meeting. He explained his alarm at the state of the Guild, questioned Traven's wisdom in so weakening the organisation. He was no friend of necromancers, but hadn't Traven's extreme actions caused more damage than any necromancer had? Wasn't the evidence there to see in the guildhalls of Cyrodiil? Traven sat quietly and listened to all Beorhtulf had to say, and then astonished him by promoting him to Master-Wizard and offering him one of the vacant seats on the Mage's Council. All the senior mages who disagreed with him had left, Traven explained, so 'my counsel (you might say) is very unbalanced'. Also, there had been serious new developments - necromancers killing and abducting mages in groups. An experienced Legion Battlemage would be a valuable addition. Would he accept? Beorhtulf accepted.

In reality he was limited in what he could do as the necromancer attacks escalated. He helped with training some of the more junior Battlemages, gave Traven what advice he could, but the Guild as a whole was in no condition to stand up to the assaults. A rising young Sorcerer, not long with the Guild, called Sebastian Ancois was making a name for himself gathering information for the Council. Beorhtulf did not like Ancois, and thought him arrogant, and undisciplined, but he had to admit that he was playing a very useful role in the conflict (and seemed quite handy in a fight too).

One day Beorhtulf returned from his monthly three-day sojourn 'chasing sheep' (as he euphemistically and disparagingly thought of it) to find the Council chamber even emptier than usual. Cornering Traven in the lobby outside, he asked him what had happened. He learnt that Ancois had brought dire news - Mannimarco had returned and was co-ordinating the necromancers against the Guild. Upon hearing this the Council had finally fractured, and with the exception of Beorhtulf, and a Breton lady pushing eighty years old, had fled. Furthermore, with them had gone the Bloodworm Helm and the Necromancer's Amulet, two powerful relics usually stored in the deepest vault. Beorhtulf let fly at the Arch-Mage in rage and despair that such a disaster had been allowed to happen. But he knew that half his anger and frustration was aimed at himself - that his condition had prevented him from being there at the crucial moment when the Council disintegrated.

Traven assured him that Ancois would bring them back, and so he did - the relics, if not the councillors. Beorhtulf was straightaway sent to gather a contingent of Battlemages and rendezvous with Ancois down at the Ayleid ruin of Silorn, in order to set a trap for Falcar, the erstwhile head of Cheydinhal Chapter and high-ranking necromancer. The trap was sprung, but Falcar had detected their presence, and hared back into the ruin, Ancois on his heels. Two hours later the Breton emerged, and informed Beorhtulf that Falcar was dead. Beorhtulf thought that he seemed to be carrying something in his cloak, but he would not show him what it was, and instead headed straight back to the Imperial City. Wolf stayed with his contingent to mop up.

On arriving back at the University, he was met at the gate by Raminus Polus, a grave expression on his face. Arch-Mage Hannibal Traven was dead, had committed suicide, and Ancois was gone to confront Mannimarco, the King of Worms. Should Ancois ever return, Traven had appointed him his successor as Arch-Mage. Beorhtulf spent the next two days not eating, not sleeping, staying largely in the Council Chamber, alternating smoking his pipe with pacing up and down the floor. Finally Ancois returned. Mannimarco was defeated, the crisis was over, and the Mages Guild had a new Arch-Mage.

Despite his personal dislike, Beorhtulf tried to accept young Ancois and work with him on the important business of rebuilding the Guild. However, over the course of the next ten months it became obvious to him that his misgivings about the Sorcerer's temperament were well founded. Ancois showed little interest in the day-to-day duties of an Arch-Mage, the minutiae and the meetings seemed to bore him rigid. He was frequently absent, for days, sometimes even a week at a time, and nobody knew where he went. Towards the end of the ten months he was more often away from the University than not, and when he was there he was bad-tempered, distracted and sullen. Then he went missing altogether.

There was a rumour, a strong one, that he had gone through the strange door that had opened in the Niben Bay. A Bravil guard posted outside, when interviewed, said that he was pretty sure he had seen someone of Ancois' description go in, and not come out. The Guild was still in a half-derilict state. Ancois had done little beyond rebuilding the Bruma guildhall. The poor situation in the other Chapter houses still obtained. The Council did not really exist, being only two in number. The Guild needed a leader, and now their Arch-Mage was gone. They waited, and waited, and after another two months a meeting was called: Beorhtulf, his Breton fellow Councillor, and Raminus Polus and Tar-Meena, the other Master-Wizards at the University. It took them less than an hour to reach their decision - Beorhtulf Fire-Hand would become, in theory, the acting Arch-Mage of the Mages Guild. In practice, none of them expected to see the present Arch-Mage again.

The first thing Beorhtulf did as Arch-Mage was reform the council.

NOTES
Sometimes a class will come first, or a purpose, or a face. Wolf was one the latter. I had no ideas about class or personality, I just knew how I wanted him to look. Older, stern, blue eyes, white hair. I fired up the character creation screen. When I'd finished, I looked at him and knew he was a mage, a battlemage. By the end of the tutorial dungeon I'd realised he was a werewolf. But it was when he aquired the scars on his face, that his entire character presented itself. I really wasn't planning on making a new character at the time, but there he was. And for three days at the end of his months I run madly around the wilderness and see some great scenery.