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Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Oct 5 2023, 04:47 PM

Here's the novella I wrote this year as a companion piece to Outlanders. This one actually takes place during the events of the game, and follows Jeval as he deals with the dissolution of the Fashion Club and some pretty big changes in his own life (and in the world around him). I wrote this to explore some heavier themes that I wasn't really able to get to in the main story. It's sixteen chapters long.

Breaking Balmora, or The Last Days of the Fashion Club

Chapter 1

A single lock of blond hair fell down on Jeval’s brow, just a little left of center. He zeroed in on it, seeing his black eyes reflected back at him in his mom’s polished brass mirror.

Is this what he wanted?

Because that little lock said a lot. It changed the image he’d sported for the past three years, made him look more daring, more relaxed. Not some kid any longer, but a man. Or at least a guy. A guy girls would want (he hoped). He’d already fixed up his outfit to reflect that: undid the two top buttons, loosened the threads around the cuffs. Enough to make him look chill without looking messy.

Quinn worked magic with this kind of thing. Jeval wasn’t as good, but he’d picked up some tricks from her, things like how to take a tunic or a collar and get it to tell the story you wanted it to tell.

“Jeval, are you still at the mirror?” came his little sister’s voice.

“Yeah, obviously,” he said.

“I need to use it! Mom!”

Jeval sighed. Okay, he had to figure this out pretty quick. He brushed the lock to the side, giving the bare brow look one more chance.

“Jeval! Why in the world do you need to spend so much time grooming yourself?” mom demanded, her voice carrying up from the kitchen where she was busy heating up yesterday’s stew for breakfast.

He turned his head to the door, where his sister Seleynia glared at him, and spoke over her. “Because looking good is important!”

Screw it. He didn’t need this. Jeval let the lock fall, studied himself one more time, and stepped back.

“All yours, sis,” he muttered.

“Weirdo,” she muttered back.

He ambled down the adobe stairs and into the cramped kitchen. Mom looked at him through the steam rising from the big cookpot.

“Jeval, I know you want to look good, but isn’t it a little odd for a man your age to spend that much time at the mirror?”

Jeval shrugged. “Shouldn’t a man my age look good?”

Not like he had much choice. Skinny little Bosmer guys weren’t exactly in high demand among girls in Morrowind. He had to make the most of what he had.

“A man your age should be working at a trade.”

“I have a job!”

“Cleaning tables isn’t a trade, Jeval. And you spend all your money on clothes and cosmetics!”

“Are you kidding me? I stretch every septim I get. Meanwhile, Seleynia breaks the bank each time she goes to the market—”

“Clothes are important for girls. They shouldn’t be so important for you.”

“Yeah, well, I dunno how to break this to you but this isn’t Valenwood. In Morrowind, people expect you to look sharp.”

“Always good to look sharp!” dad declared, stepping in from the street. He’d just come back from a big courier job to Gnisis the other day.

Dad pointed to his horns and flashed a file-toothed grin.

“Yeah, see?” Jeval said. Not like dad didn’t have his own agenda on this. But right now, Jeval would take whatever help came his way.

Mom frowned. “It’s strange for a boy to spend that much time in front of the mirror. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You say that now, but just wait until he brings home some gorgeous Dunmer girl from a rich family. I bet he’ll punch above his weight. Same as his old dad,” dad said, leaning in to give his wife a quick peck.

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she did it.

“You staying for breakfast?” dad asked.

“No, I gotta work. Then I’m hanging out with my friends.”

“Good, good.”

Okay, he was free from them until late evening.

“Let’s walk a bit,” dad said.

Or not.

Jeval and his dad entered the street outside their home, packed with the midday crowd. The autumn sun shone weakly above Balmora’s sprawl, all its hundreds of brown adobe boxes and the thousands who lived inside them.

Jeval picked up the pace. He wasn’t mad at dad, or anything. Just kind of didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“Uh, no offense, but I might be running kind of late.”

“We can jog,” dad offered.

Dad was a courier, so yeah, that’d be a cinch for him. No avoiding this parental conversation.

“Have you made any friends at work?” dad asked.

“I’m usually the only guy there my shift,” Jeval lied.

“So still hanging with Quinn and the other girls?”

Jeval’s heart sank. He knew where this was going. “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing! Having friends who are girls is a good way to get girlfriends. But you’ve never dated any of them? Quinn, Satheri, uh… Tiphannia?”

“Uh, no. It’d be kind of weird.” But even as he said it, he felt the warmth creep into his cheeks. Since yeah, he still kind of wanted Quinn. Not as much as he used to, but the feeling never totally went away.

“Don’t get hung up on her, Jeval. There are a lot of girls out there. I’m sure Quinn can introduce you to someone. You’re not interested in, uh, Treads, are you?”

“No,” Jeval said, squeezing the word out between his clenched teeth.

“You do spend more time with her than the others. Look, I know things are done differently outside of Valenwood. And I’m open-minded. I’m just… not sure there are good long-term—”

“I’m not attracted to Argonians. She’s not attracted to Mer. That’s why she’s my best friend. We can just chill.”

“Okay, I believe you,” dad said, in a tone that suggested he did not, in fact, believe his son.

They turned the corner, going along the riverside market packed with the morning crowd. The thick and sour smell of roasting kwama rose from dozens of outdoor grills, mixing with the damp riverbank air. The Odai flowed thick and black beneath the Foreigner’s Span, swelled by the recent rains. Nearby, a Dunmer priestess stood on a crate, denouncing the cult of the Nerevarine.

“Stay true to the Tribunal and the Temple teachings!” she proclaimed. “Heed not the lies from the House of Troubles, who take the memory of blessed St. Nerevar and twist it to their own foul ends!”

Jeval had been hearing a lot about the Nerevarine lately but didn’t get what it was about. Something to do with an old prophecy that the Tribunal Temple didn’t like. But he wasn’t a Dunmer and he didn’t worship the Tribunal, so whatever.

“What about coming with me on my next trip?” dad asked.

“Huh?”

“You know, go with me on the job. You don’t want to be serving drunks at the Lucky Lockup for the rest of your life.”

Jeval thought about it a bit. Working as a courier would be interesting, at least. He didn’t know if he wanted to hike that much. But he’d get used to it, right?

“Uh, maybe. When’s your next job?”

“Don’t know yet, but not long from now. I think you’d be good. Just have to build up your endurance. And I know all the tricks: how to figure out if a storm’s coming—”

“Lift a finger to the wind and see if it’s going to push the dark clouds toward you,” Jeval said, remembering the many stories dad had told him about his adventures on the road. He used to love those stories as a kid.

Hell, he still did.

“—how to negotiate with bandits—”

“Give a little cash to make them happy, but never let them corner you or take your cargo.”

“—and why you should never camp out in an ancestral tomb.”

“Because you’ll get cursed or killed.”

“Of course, you can always get un-cursed. But getting un-killed isn’t usually an option. Sounds to me like you’re ready for the job.”

Jeval chuckled. Dad had charm. Jeval wished he could be like that.

“Can I think about it a bit?”

“Sure, but not too long. It’s been months since you graduated. It’s fine to rest a bit, but you have to keep moving forward.”

“Uh huh. I know.”

They turned the corner again, keeping some distance between them and the Council Club, where Dunmer gangsters glared down on them from the roof. The Lucky Lockup, haven to outlanders and weirdos, lay right next to it.

“Have a good one, son,” dad said.

“Yeah, you too,” Jeval said.

He’d spend the rest of the day scrubbing corkbulb tables and serving drinks to rude people from all over Tamriel.

At least he’d look better doing it.

He hoped.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 5 2023, 06:02 PM

Neat, a spinoff series where Jeval becomes a drug dealer in order to pay for his medical bills. Well, something at least.

Jeval is sporting a new Patrick Swayze look, with the errant forelock of hair, and showing off some buff chestage.

Actually I am getting a lot of Saturday Night Fever/Staying Alive vibes from this, as we meet Jeval's family, and their criticism of his investing so much effort into his fit.

Between your stories and Renee's Joan Before Arkay story, I think once I am done with my current run through of Baldur's Gate 3 I might go back to Morroblivion again, with Silverlight this time.

So Jeval might be the guy I see in Skyrim, delivering a new letter to my toons, without wearing any clothes?

Posted by: Acadian Oct 6 2023, 12:24 AM

Thanks for giving us your perspective on, and estimated length of, this novella right up front in your comments.

I had thought of Jeval as not much more than a cluelessly hot-for-Quinn J boy, but here you very quickly add a great deal of depth to him. By the end of this episode, I want to learn more of his story and already feel ‘invested’ in him. This promises to be an enjoyable read.

Good to learn that there’s more to his life than Quinn – though I was pleased to see how much he has learned from her. Outward presentation is important, especially for an elf seeking a mate. I like his dad and agree that being a courier could be a pretty interesting career choice.

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Oct 8 2023, 04:21 PM

@SubRosa - I have to admit I actually somewhat regret titling this "Breaking Balmora", since it gives the impression that it's a Breaking Bad crossover. Too late to do anything about it now, but if I were to do this over again I'd give it a different name.

@Acadian - Sure thing! The show character that Jeval is based on (Jamie) is pretty one-dimensional. But keeping him that way felt like wasted potential, so I decided to expand on him a bit throughout the series, and eventually gave him this spinoff.

Chapter 2

“I love what you did with your hair!”

Quinn clapped her hands together and leaned down for a better look at the lock of hair Jeval had let hang over his forehead. Jeval smiled back.

She looked like a goddess. More than that: she acted like one. She always knew what to do, what to wear, where to be. Sure, plenty of stuck-up nobles were the same. But with Quinn, there was always room for you.

Even if you were a Bosmer boy.

“Yeah, you look so dashing,” Satheri said. Her lips turned up in a smile that lasted maybe a second before going back to the worried frown she’d had for the past month. She was a Dunmer, gray-skinned and red-eyed, even though her features were so soft that Jeval couldn’t help thinking she had some human ancestry, somewhere.

Not that he’d ever bring it up, with all the stuff she had to worry about.

“Hair care… is so… like… important…” Tiphannia droned. She wasn’t even looking at him. Tiphannia stood out from the crowd, why shouldn’t she? Keptu-quey like her weren’t common on the mainland. Helped that she was gorgeous, with gleaming straight black hair and delicate little facial features that might even make Quinn jealous.

“It does look good,” Treads said. “Adds a little something extra.”

Treads-on-Ferns rounded out their little group. She was Argonian, which in her case meant vivid scales, mostly dark green and pale green (except for a cobalt band around her neck), a snout, and a long tail.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Jeval said. “Like, I’ve been keeping the same hair for the past few years and that’s kinda sad, actually.”

“Well, if it works it works. That’s the nice thing about hair: you can always change it, and even if it’s not great, it grows back!” Quinn exclaimed.

They were hanging out at the Glass Crown, a nice outlander cornerclub in the Commercial District. Used to be they’d get together every week. Nowadays, it was more like once or twice a month, and not always with the whole crew.

They’d all moved on from Drenlyn Academy back in late spring, and that already felt like a million years ago.

Jeval looked at Satheri. “Hey, Satheri, you said I look dashing: that’s kind of the image I’m trying to go for. Does the rest of the outfit work for that?”

“Um, I think so. What do you think, muthsera?” she asked, looking at Quinn.

“Oh, it totally does! Though…”

Her blue eyes narrowed slightly, the candlelight glinting off her gleaming, coppery hair. Jeval’s heart skipped a beat.

“Pin a flower to your vest. Something bright and bold. Not a stoneflower… I know! A fire petal. That’ll stand out and be a contrast to the cooler colors you use.”

Jeval nodded. A fire petal was perfect. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

Another thing he loved about Quinn: she’d never tell him to buy more clothes, because she knew he didn’t have the budget. She always made her advice fit the person, not the other way around. Quinn was what the Empire was supposed to be.

“Cool, I’ll comb the markets. But yeah, figured the dashing look was better for the ladies,” he said, forcing a laugh at the end. Since he wanted them to know he was interested in girls, but not, you know, interested in a way that’d make anything awkward.

“Any girl would be lucky to have you, Jeval,” Quinn said, and her words stabbed him straight in the heart because yes, she meant it.

Just not for her.

Would it be the same if he was some rich Imperial with a big Heartlands estate? A Redguard who’d gone all over Tamriel and had a crazy story for every situation? An Altmer who knew all the styles going back for eons and then some?

If he were anything other than the shrimpy Bosmer he was?

Whatever. Sooner or later, like Treads had told him more than once, he’d have to move on. He just didn’t want to. Not yet. Because Quinn was still single, and he could still pretend there was a chance.

Gods, that was pretty pathetic, wasn’t it?

“Any chance you know someone?” Jeval asked, mostly because dad was pushing him. But hey, Quinn knew lots of people. Or she used to, anyway, back in Drenlyn.

“I can look around! It’s just harder now. I hardly ever talk to anyone anymore except the Portollos,” she said. The Portollos were rich silk traders who’d hired her as a governess for their kid.

“Fire petals are… so… bright…” Tiphannia said.

“Tiphannia, maybe you know someone that Jeval could date?” Satheri asked. “Most of the girls I know are already in arranged marriages.”

“Huh? I thought… we were talking… about flowers…”

It was weird how Tiphannia always fell behind in conversation. Sure, she wasn’t that smart. But plenty of people weren’t that smart. They didn’t keep getting stuck the way Tiphannia did. There was something weird about her, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The five of them chatted as the Glass Crown filled up with the dinner and evening networking crowd. Candles burned bright as the sun set, but the thick adobe walls kept out the damp and the cold. There they were, warm and cozy as always. The world changed, but the Fashion Club stayed the same.

“I should probably get going, guys,” Satheri finally said. “I have to get up early tomorrow for a temple blessing.”

“Oh, Satheri! That’s so sweet. The first of seven, right?”

“Of six, actually. The first three for ALMSIVI, the fourth for the saints, and the fifth for my family, and the last for me. And then, well, I’m off to get…”

She giggled in a high-pitched tone. Her lips trembled.

“… married!” Satheri practically shrieked the word, her hands balled up into fists.

Quinn threw her arms around Satheri and drew her close. “I’m going to miss you so much, Satheri! But we’ll be with you every step of the way. Especially when you plan your dress.”

Tears flowed from Satheri’s eyes now, and she nodded. “Thank you, muthsera. I wish you guys could all go with me.”

“We’ll be there in spirit,” Treads said.

“Definitely,” Jeval agreed. He and Treads looked at each other. Would an Argonian like Treads even be allowed in a Dunmer wedding? But bringing it up would just put Treads on the spot.

If there’s one thing Quinn loved talking about, it was weddings, so naturally they spent more time than they needed going on about it. Jeval zoned out a little; not like he had much to add. But somehow it still felt too soon when Satheri waved a little goodbye and left with Tiphannia. The two practically lived next to each other.

“I’m not that good at reading Dunmer faces,” Treads said after they left. “But even I can tell Satheri’s terrified.”

Quinn sighed. “I know. It sucks. I talked to her dad once about maybe giving her more time, but he said it had already been set up or something. She’s been with me since the beginning! I hope she’ll be okay. At least her husband-to-be is nice.”

“How do you know?” Jeval asked.

“Oh, I asked Mr. Portollo. He’s not a noble, but he works with nobles. And they all say the Lowendral family is nice!”

“But you never met him,” Treads said.

“No, but I know someone who knows someone, and that’s almost as good.”

“Let’s hope so,” Treads replied. “But we all know that you don’t get rich in Great House Hlaalu by being nice.”

“Oh my gosh you guys, relax. Satheri’s mom and dad would not make her marry someone mean!” Quinn said, a little too loudly.

And if they did, it’s not like the Fashion Club could do anything about it. Some days, Jeval felt more like an ornament than a person. Him all decked out in gaudy array: flashy and stylish and useless.

“Uh, changing the subject,” Jeval said, “does anyone know what the deal is with Tiphannia?”

Quinn blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Like why…” Jeval hesitated, searching for a nicer word. “… why she’s so slow.”

“She’s not slow! She just has, like, a way of doing things,” Quinn protested.

“It’s how she is,” Treads agreed. “Every group has one, right?”

“Look, I’ve met people who were, you know, slow. But Tiphannia doesn’t act the same way.”

Quinn frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but what if she’s been cursed? Curses can slow you down, make you weak. It happened to my dad once, when he hid out in an ancestral tomb during a storm. And I’m thinking maybe something like that happened to Tiphannia. Not the tomb part, just the curse part. And it messed with her brain.”

“But Tiphannia’s a sweetheart! Who would want to curse her?” Quinn objected.

“Because nothing bad ever happens to nice people, right?” Treads said.

Quinn rolled her eyes. “You know, I don’t even need to miss Daria when you’re around.”

Treads made a quiet hissing sound. It was how she laughed. “I always liked your sister.”

But Jeval wasn’t going to give up. Since if Tiphannia was cursed, like dad said, she could be un-cursed easily. All it took was a trip to a shrine or temple. Plus, unlike Satheri, he might be able to do something about this.

“I’m serious. I think someone, or something, cursed Tiphannia,” he said.

“Maybe she does act a little strange,” Treads concurred. “But when would she have been cursed?”

“Could’ve been anywhere. Maybe back on Cathnoquey, maybe her dad ticked off the wrong guy in the Imperial City, maybe it happened after she got here. She’s moved around a lot.”

“Everyone here’s moved around a lot,” Quinn said.

“Sure. My point’s that we don’t know. Like that’s a lot of time where something could have happened to her.”

Quinn got that so-sure-of-herself look that told the room she was done talking. “Guys, there’s no way Tiphannia’s cursed. If she had been, her mom and dad would have already taken her to the shrine to get it cleared up. Un-cursing is like, super-easy and cheap, so why wouldn’t they? We just have to accept her the way she is.”

Deflated, Jeval nodded. But somehow, he still wasn’t sure.


*********

“I’m telling you, I’m onto something with this curse thing!”

It was nearing midnight. Jeval and Treads-on-Ferns were crossing Duke Vedem Dren Bridge to Labor Town on the other side, where she lived with her family. They walked close, pulling their cloaks tightly around their bodies. It was one of those nights so cold that it sucked the warmth right out of your lungs.

“I don’t know. Seems like a longshot.”

“But you admitted it yourself! Tiphannia doesn’t act the way a—you know—slow person acts. Like she’s slow, but in a different way.”

They reached the other side. A row of grubby adobe homes stared at them from along the riverbank. People placed the torches farther apart in Labor Town so there were these big stretches of night between them. Perfect place to get jumped. Sure, they said Labor Town was safer than it had been before the riot, but he didn’t want to bet on that.

“Maybe. But what do you propose we do? Take her to get uncursed?” Treads asked.

“Let’s ask around a bit, first. Who do we know that’s smart about this kind of thing?”

“Daria. But she’s on the mainland.”

“What about Jolda? She’s smart.” Jeval hadn’t talked to her in ages, but he knew she lived on Silk-hawker’s Street.

“Oh yeah. And hey, she used to work at the guild. She might know.”

“That settles it then. We ask her tomorrow.”

“I have work tomorrow,” Treads said. She worked as a clerk for a riverside warehouse and hated every minute of it. Jeval didn’t blame her.

“Me too, but I can try to talk to her before my shift starts. And then we, uh, figure things out and talk to Tiphannia’s parents. Like they gotta be worried about her, too. She’s been relying on Quinn all this time, but who knows how much longer that’ll last?”

Treads was silent for a bit. “It wouldn’t hurt to check out. I have to admit: the more I think about it, the more I think you might be on to something. Simple stupidity doesn’t explain Tiphannia.”

They were right at Treads’s house when the door swung open and her father, Swims-Slowly-Under-Flowers (“You can just call me Mr. Flowers,” he always said), stepped out.

“Treads-on-Ferns! Why are you out so late?” he demanded.

Mr. Flowers was a big guy. He’d served in the legion and could have been the garrison champ or something. Even now he was a six-foot-three slab of scaled muscle, and in good light you could see the scars criss-crossing his biceps.

“I was out with friends!”

“You shouldn’t be out in Labor Town at night. It’s not safe.”

Treads drew back and hissed, flashing her sharp teeth. “Maybe it would be if the Empire cared about people like us.”

“Treads, it’s dangerous for anyone here, Argonian or otherwise,” Mr. Flowers said.

“Uh huh. I know exactly what you’re worried about, so don’t bullshit me. Dunmer and Imperials don’t have to watch out the way we do, and you know why!”

Mr. Flowers gave a long sigh and rubbed his snout with his thumb and forefinger. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, go inside. Your mother’s worried sick.”

Treads glared at him and disappeared into the house without a word.

“Good to see you Jeval,” Mr. Flowers said.

“You too, Mr. Flowers. Me and Treads were in the Commercial District, mostly. You know, up by the Glass Crown. It’s pretty safe there. We weren’t going through Labor Town.”

“Sure, but she does live in Labor Town, so she has to go through it a little bit to come home. I’m glad she’s with someone. But Jeval?”

Jeval tensed up, not sure exactly what Mr. Flowers would say. “Yeah?”

“Don’t let her stay out so late.”

He didn’t sound mad. But Jeval didn’t think it’d be a good idea to defy him.

“Uh, well, I’ll try. But Treads does what she wants, you know? I’m her friend, not her boss.”

“Just try to get her home earlier. Please. Things are… unsettled right now. Anyway, I’m sure your parents are worried as well. You should get home.”

“I told them I’d be out late. Plus, my dad’s a courier, you know? Think he likes me to have adventures, and stuff.”

“Suppose I can see the logic. But I don’t want my daughter to get in trouble. The Empire protects its citizens, but we’re in a very distant corner of it. And Argonians are not always accepted here. It’ll change for the better, one day. Until then, we have to be careful.”

“Okay. I’ll, uh try.”

“That’s all I ask. You’ll be okay going home? You can spend the night if you need.”

“That’s okay, Mr. Flowers. I’ll be fine.”

“All right. Stay safe, Jeval.”

Mr. Flowers went inside and quietly shut the door. Jeval shivered under his cloak (a nice green number he’d gotten at a great bargain from Clanler’s shop). Behind him, the Odai’s dirty waters lapped up against the levee.

He turned around and started walking back, already thinking of the next day. It had to be a curse. He was sure of it.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 8 2023, 05:55 PM

If you want to change the title it is not too late. Just let Acadian or I know, and we can rename the thread. Just tell us what you want to call it.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 8 2023, 08:29 PM

A dashing new look for Jeval! Bosmer-maids can try to use their diminutive height to try and lay claim to ‘petite’ or ‘cute’ but I’d imagine Bosmer-boyz have a tougher challenge trying to fit in among the tall folk (that would be everyone except fellow Bosmer). Buffy’s heard and been the brunt of every short joke on Nirn we think. And Jeval’s doing his dashing on a budget as well. He’s right – Quinn is uncanny when it comes to tailoring fashion advice to her target, regardless of their situation/limitations.

I find myself once again hoping that Satheri is matched to a worthy mate who appreciates the beauty of her naïve/childlike nature.

Wow, Treads’ dad is a pretty cool dude! I instantly liked him.

An interesting possibility that Jeval raises about Tiphannia. I’d tend to thing that’s ‘just the way she is’, but won’t hurt (hopefully) to check it out.

And SubRosa is right. No problem for either of us to change the title of your thread if you like.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 10 2023, 03:29 AM

Hey, its the Fashion Club! Jeval is right, in that Quinn does use her powers for good, and makes an effort to make everyone else feel seen and appreciated. It is a stark contrast to Sydna (from your writing and the TV show), who only keeps others around as objects she can use, or as an audience to bask in her glory.

Any girl would be lucky to have you
Just not you. Ouch Jeval. I felt that one too. Unrequited love is a most unpleasant experience. But I don't think it is because he's a shrimpy Bosmer.

I think time dilates around Tiphanna, so that it moves more slowly for... her... than... everyone... else.

So Satheri is getting hitched? I wonder if she had had the chance to meet her betrothed yet?

I kind of doubt that Tiphanna is cursed. But, I am looking forward to the hijinks that Jeval gets up to trying to un-curse her!

And a nice walk home with Treads that reminds us of the not so nice fact that not everyone in Morrowind or the Empire is equal, and that some people have a lot more to fear than others.

Posted by: Renee Oct 10 2023, 08:29 PM

There definitely is a difference between a man and a guy, at least in American society for sure. Guys are just males, like a common word for males, while men actually stand up and make some sort of a difference. "BE a MAN", we've heard so many times. Same could be said for blokes and dudes and all the other slang-words used for males in English-speaking areas. "Be a MAN, not some bloke from Southhampton!"

There is no equivalent for us women though, is there? 💁 Perhaps here and there someone might say "BE a WOMAN", meaning whatever "be a man" is supposed to mean, but it's never become as much of an actual catchphrase as "be a man!"

How old is Jeval by now? And why would Quinn be able to 'work some kind of magic" at getting him dressed? All of this implies they've had some history, Jeval and the Mall Princess.

Locks of hair falling are hot (imo). As long as it's just that: a lock.

Ha ha this is funny. He's spending all his time on clothes and appearance. https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Metrosexual

Heh, I like dad. Dad's on his son's side. The conversation between them while they jog is awkward and hilarious. Dad also wants to build his son's Endurance. Because son's probably putting all his points into Personality (maybe Luck, maybe a bit of Agility), right?

Exactly, Miss Rosa. SNF is definitely a great movie to check out at some point, Clav, if you haven't seen it yet. Full of guys who aren't afraid to strut their stuff. But beyond that (and beyond the fanstastic dancing scenes) it's just a really good story. It actually has a plot and some themes underlying, and stuff.

And here's a thought. A male friend of mine who used to parade around in colorful clothes, even as he'd occasionally be called "f4gg0t" and such, once told me his reason: in the Animal Kingdom, males are often more colorful than females. I'd actually never considered that at the time. Being an urban hippy in my 20s, this guy often dressed more outlandish than I ever would!

I admit Breaking Bad did cross my mind, which is fine with me. If you want to change the title though, you can always contact the admins! Acadian transferred the entire Joan of Arkay story from the common Morrowind thread to Fan Fiction, for instance. Because I used to be reluctant to post in FF.

Yeah, see, Quinn's got it. Fallen locks of hair are HAWT.



As the (male) writer of this story Clav, you've definitely got a pulse on some great fashion tips.

Damn. Quinn can't see what's going on right in front of her, can she? Or maybe can can see Jeval's attraction toward her, but chooses not to acknowledge.

Tiphannia is not slow, just eternally stoned! Anyway, what an entertaining tale this is, Clav. My desire for some Outlanders has been sated.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 10 2023, 08:52 PM

He is right about males often being very colorful, and competing to get the attention of females in order to mate. Very often the males a species are the bright and colorful ones, and the females are dull, drab colored in comparison. Take ducks for example.

https://youtu.be/HPh_Gi7PCqs?si=0cUiF-N-8NGLw7FF. Though at least Quinn is not going to eat him if his dance is not entertaining enough.

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Oct 12 2023, 03:51 PM

@SubRosa - Thanks for the offer! I think I'll reduce the title so that it's just "The Last Days of the Fashion Club". That gets the idea across.

Part of the reason I decided to write this from Jeval's perspective is to show how beauty (handsomeness?) standards can affect men as well. While I think you're right in this case--him being Bosmer isn't the reason Quinn's not interested in him--he does know that Bosmer men are shorter and skinnier than what the Empire normally considers attractive, and that even if Quinn doesn't buy into that, plenty of other people do. It'd also lead to non-Bosmer men underestimating him.

Satheri's arranged marriage was mentioned a few times in Outlanders, though it never played a big role. The epilogue showed that the marriage was indeed a happy one, though cut short by various world events.

After finishing writing Outlanders, I realized that it did explore the setting from a pretty comfortable perspective. Yes, Daria's an outlander, but she's also Imperial (half-Nord, but close enough), upper middle class, and has a supportive family. While she's cognizant of the problems in Morrowind and the Empire, they don't necessarily affect her the same way they'd affect people like Treads-on-Ferns or Jeval. Hence, me writing this.

Peacock spider is a good match! Or some of those birds in Papua New Guinea, who put on crazy displays. Valenwood might be a place for critters like that.

@Acadian - Thanks! I put a note for SubRosa to change the title.

It's a double-bind for Bosmer. Bosmer women are more likely to match the Empire's beauty standards for women than Bosmer men are for their equivalent. In one of the Outlander episodes, where Jeval and Treads first bond, Jeval actually thinks about this.

Satheri's husband did turn out to be a good guy according to the Outlanders epilogue. Sadly, he did not live for very long due to events post-Red Year.

Treads's dad will show up a few more times in this story. He has a small but important role.

@Renee - Jeval's 18-19 by now, along with the rest of the Fashion Club. He's been with the club for a good few years by now, so he knows everyone in it pretty well.

Ha! I haven't heard that term for a while, but yeah, Jeval probably is.

Jeval's dad is a good guy. He's supportive, but also offers some guidance.

I've not seen SNF, but I've heard that the movie is actually far darker and grittier than its somewhat camp reputation suggests. Yes, the disco might be flashy but it's still within the context of 1970s New York City, and that wasn't an easy place to live in (though more affordable than modern NYC, at least).

Glad you approve of the fashion choices! I kind of went off my gut impression for what would look good. Maybe I have a better instinct for this than I thought.

I think Quinn believes Jeval is over her and just sees her as a friend. All I'll say now is that Jeval himself doesn't quite understand his own feelings here...

Chapter 3

Jeval always liked going to Silk-hawker’s Street. It was the most colorful part of Balmora, what with all the streamers in reds, blues, violets, and more going between the buildings and tumbling down the walls. Adobe brown wasn’t bad, but you got sick of it after a while. The place had plenty of great clothes from Cyrodiil, too, though not at prices he could afford.

It was still early in the morning when he arrived the next day, keeping an eye out for Jolda at-Armand. She’d left Drenlyn a few months before him and was already doing some high-level Empire stuff. As high-level as you could get at her age, anyway.

He wondered if she’d even remember him. It’s not like they’d talked much.

He spotted Jolda just as she left her house. Jolda had always had a knock-out sense of style. That day, she wore a magenta dress made of fine wool, with a black moth-silk coat over it. Stood out without being too loud. Her black hair was still done up in cornrows, but now she’d tied them into a braid behind her head.

“Uh, Jolda!” he called out.

She blinked and looked around. Jeval cursed. She probably hadn’t even seen him in the crowd. No point in getting mad; Bosmer weren’t easy to see with taller folk around.

He hurried out of the crowd and called out again. That time she saw him.

“Oh, hi! Jeval, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Uh, how have things been?”

Jeval wanted to get to the point, but he had to be polite.

“Fine. But with how you ran to me, I’m guessing this isn’t just a social visit.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, you got me. Uh, you used to work at the Mages Guild, right?”

Jolda nodded. “I interned there for two years. But I’m not with them anymore. Why do you ask?”

Jeval scratched the back of his neck, and then put his arm down. You only scratched the back of your neck when you were confused, and dad had always taught him to look like he knew what he was doing. Especially when he didn’t.

“So, I’m doing some research on curses. I think a friend of mine might be cursed. But I don’t know for sure. That’s why I wanted to ask if you knew anything about that.”

“Hm, well most of my internship was administrative. I don’t know that much about magic. Though I do know that technically, what most people call a curse is professionally known as ‘attribute damage’.”

“Come again?”

“In other words, a curse is a spell that damages a person’s traits, like their strength or their speed.”

“What about their intelligence?” Jeval asked.

Jolda nodded. “That can also be a target.”

“Okay, so I think that’s what happened to Tiphannia.”

“Oh.” Jolda’s eyes suddenly got big. “Oh my gosh! I never thought about that. But her behavior is consistent with that kind of spell.”

“Can we get like a mage to check her out?”

“Well, the simplest solution is to take her to the Tribunal Temple or to the cult shrine up in Moonmoth. They can fix the damage. It’d be cheaper than the guild, anyway.”

“Yeah, but I want to be sure before I tell her parents.”

Jolda stroked her chin and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good point. Unfortunately, the guild will charge for that, and they’ve raised their prices. Again.”

“Tiphannia’s parents are like, loaded. They can pay if they need. But I want to have a good case, you know? I don’t want to sound like an idiot when I tell them about this.”

“I get you. How about this: there used to be a book in the guild office that describes what happens when intelligence gets damaged. I can go by the guild office now and see if it’s still there. Steward Athrys isn’t friendly, but she likes my dad, so she’ll let me borrow it.”

“You’d do that? Thanks, you’re really cool.”

“Heh. I just think the guilds should sometimes help people the way they were designed to do. Come on, let’s go.”

Jeval fell in next to Jolda as they passed under silk banners in all the colors of the rainbow.

“Uh, so how have things been after Drenlyn?” Jeval asked.

“Really busy. Right now, I’m acting president of the local Young Citizens for a Better Empire chapter, working as an almoner for the Imperial Cult, and organizing my dad’s research. I’m also applying for a job at the Hammerfell Mission in Old Ebonheart.”

“Dang. I, uh, wait tables,” Jeval said with a laugh. “Guess Drenlyn worked out pretty well for you, huh? If you got all that.”

“My dad made me—I mean, he connected me with all these jobs. Drenlyn Academy doesn’t have many meaningful institutional connections.”

“Huh?”

“As in, I’m not sure going there helped people get good jobs.”

“That’s not true,” Jeval said. “Like Quinn: she’s governess for the Portollo family.”

“Did she get that through Drenlyn?”

Jeval blinked. “Uh, no. Actually, I think she got that through her mom, now that you mention it. But what about her sister? She’s with the guild.”

Jolda shook her head. “Drenlyn did set Daria up with an internship, but she quit before it was done. She got the actual job when she rejoined the guild after leaving Drenlyn.”

Come to think of it, no one he knew except Jolda had a great job. Maybe Karl, but he’d already been working at the EEC because of his dad.

“Are you saying Drenlyn was like… a scam?” he asked.

“Legally speaking, no. They did provide some opportunities. Internships, mostly. I know Agrippina got a decent position at the Imperial Historical Society through them. But I don’t think Drenlyn helped many people. Plus, they’re only legally accredited in Morrowind.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that no place outside of Hlaalu territory will recognize our education as being valid. That’s why I’m making up for it with all these jobs.”

“Huh,” Jeval grunted.

They reached Guild Row, the world snapping back to the same old drab brown and beige you usually saw in Balmora. Once at the sign with the stylized eye that the Mages Guild used, Jolda motioned for him to stop.

“Just wait out here,” she said. “I don’t think this will take long, assuming the book is still in the office.”

“Cool. I’ll wait.”

Jolda went inside. Jeval crossed his arms and leaned against the wall to wait, watching all the people walk by. But he kept thinking about what she’d said about Drenlyn. Mom and dad had spent a ton on the place. Dad had even done some free courier work for Magistrate Lli to get a discount.

And what did they have to show for it? A son who waited tables. Maybe it wasn’t his fault. But he was kind of amazed his folks weren’t pissed at him.

Probably meant it was time to follow his dad into the courier business. At least put some more money back into the family coffers. It scared him, a little. On the other hand, life on the open road might be pretty cool. He’d have all kinds of adventures he could tell Quinn about…

Jeval smiled, thinking back to all the times Quinn had talked about starting the Fashion Guild. She hadn’t mentioned it in a while. Somehow, the older they got the farther away it seemed. But hey, crazier things happened, right? As a courier, Jeval would get to know people, make connections, see interesting styles in other parts of Vvardenfell and maybe beyond. All stuff Quinn would need to make it real.

Maybe this was the beginning. Screw Drenlyn. He didn’t need that place. None of them had.

Jolda came back with a slender blue book under her arm. The title, embossed in black ink, read: “The Causes and Nature of Attribute Damage.” It sure sounded official. And boring.

“Found it!” she said.

“Oh wow, thanks so much!”

She handed it to him. “Look at page 45. I took a quick read when I got it, and it describes Tiphannia exactly. I’m a little embarrassed I didn’t think of this before.”

“Hey, no one else did until I got a lucky thought yesterday. You really think Tiphannia has this, uh, attribute damage?”

“I couldn’t say for certain. But it looks likely. Show this to her parents, and I’m sure they’ll pay to have her restored.”

“Will do. When do you need it back?”

“The sooner the better. And please be careful with it. Steward Athrys values her possessions. Highly.”

“Got it. I’ll try to talk to Tiphannia’s folks tonight when I get off work, then I’ll give it back to you tomorrow. Thanks again!”

He hurried off, feeling brighter with each step. Yeah, things were messed up. Maybe he wasn’t the tallest, or the strongest, or the smartest. But he was sharp. He paid attention to things most people missed.

Jeval was the kind of guy you wanted around. And he was about to prove it.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 13 2023, 12:33 AM

It occurred to me during the break between your episodes that Tiphannia’s problem might be more mundane that a curse. . . skooma?

So Jolda believes it could be an attribute damaging spell. That could make sense. First gotta deal with them mages in the guild. As a rather accomplished mage, Buffy ascribes to Arch-Mage Shalidor’s thoughts on the matter of mages: ‘Mages are envied their power, and reviled for using it.’

Looks like the book Jolda borrows may be quite useful for Jeval to hopefully coax Tiphannia’s loaded parents into paying to have their daughter checked out.

I like Jeval’s thinking. He recognizes that he has a sharp eye. I also like his logic about the benefits of working as a courier. I see he still harbors dreams of both the Fashion Guild and Quinn.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 13 2023, 12:56 AM

Name changed.

It is always nice to catch up with Jolda again. She was always one of the most mature and level-headed members of the show. And had her own seriously heavy crosses to bear.

Two years in the Mages Guild? We have moved ahead in time. Administrative duties? So she was rolling scrolls alongside Daria then. Well, it beats licking stamps all day.

I don't think it's Tiphanna's Intelligence, but rather Speed that might be damaged. If that is the case. Acadian does bring up an interesting possibility though.

As ever, I see Jolda is doing four full-time jobs at once. *sigh* She's going to burn out if she cannot find a way to slow down.

So it looks like Drenlyn was even less than it was cracked up to be. A zillion drakes in student loans, and it has gotten Jeval a dishwashing job and likely the same career path as his Dad. Thankfully that has never happened to anyone IRL...

And Jolda comes through with the goods. Somehow I doubt it will be as simple as how this looks however.

Posted by: Renee Oct 15 2023, 01:07 PM

'Rosa: Yes, exactly! There's some bird with a really hilarious dance as well. Several birds.


Clavier: That's a good word to use for SNF: DARK. It's got a dark side for sure. It basically is more than just dancing. The NY drug scene is portrayed, a bit of light-hearted family life and goofing around, there's a suicide (sort of). John Travolta was HOT! He was also in Grease, another great movie, an onscreen musical in fact, which had nothing to do with disco, but also had some great dancing in it.

And then the 1980s began and all the sudden Disco was DEAD. It was literally out-of-fashion, just like that it was uncool. New Wave and rap and later electronic music (what became known as House music, Trance, dub-step, etc.) took over. I was 10/11 years old and really kind of bummed, as I'd just taken after-school disco lessons with my friend Lia. 💃

Off-topic already, sigh. Let's dig into LDotFC.


Hmm, Jeval. Now Jorda. He's thinking about Jorda graduating (or dropping out?) from the academy. Is this leading where I think it is?

Attribute damage. Interesting how the story tiptoes across to the Player's side of the game. The metagaming side. However, Jolda's speaking in such a way that it doesn't come across like that. It's just something a H4rdc0r3 g4m3r like myself notices. Anyway, so wow. So Tiphannia really has some problems, and this is why she's sort of slow.

Mm hmm. Mm 'kay.

Mages Guild as portrayed in LDOTFC == medical practices here on Earth. They're supposed to help people (at least the Restoration side of the guild). It's like that lady in the College of Winterhold, the Restorationist. She's always complaining how everyone looks down on her school of magic. Because that side of the guild is probably getting put aside, as so many folks show up wanting to learn about conjuring dead things and blowing stuff up instead.

Dang, what was my point? Right, so it's like here on Earth, sometimes it seems like the money's all that matters, right?



Ahh.. MM hmm. I see.

And yet he's still obssessed with Quinny.

Well anyway, this chapter's got that classic sitcom "what could go wrong?" feel to it now. Like something's gonna happen with that book in clumsy Jeval's hands!

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Oct 15 2023, 05:34 PM

@Acadian - Heh, skooma would have been an interesting option for this.

As for the guild, there will always be a lot of politics that get in the way of doing the job.

@SubRosa - Thanks!

Jolda doesn't play that big a role in this story, but I thought this would be a fitting cameo. She'll be in Hammerfell just a few years from now. As for the timeline, this takes place before the lengthy epilogue episode, but after the Balmora Tax Revolt.

Yeah, I got some "inspiration" from the various real-world educational disappointments that people have suffered. Drenlyn always seemed kind of fly-by-night anyway, so it fit.

@Renee - Oof, bad timing there! I've read that disco's death came about partially due to the rise of hip hop, and also because of the early '80s recession. All that glitz and glamor had a high price tag.

Heh, yeah, I wanted to keep it in the realm of the "real" while also making a nod to the gameplay mechanics. Jeval's definitely stumbled onto something with this curse idea.

(Interestingly, in Episode 31, Quinn briefly wonders if Tiphannia is cursed, but she's too distracted by the whole Balmora Tax Revolt to think about it very much).

There are definitely some parallels with the guild system and various dysfunctions here in the real world.

Oh, so that "all the colors of the rainbow" line was actually just me trying to think of a way to describe how colorful it was. Didn't realize the implication. The epilogue does mention Jeval having a wife, but given how long Mer like him would live he might well have explored other possibilities before that point.

Chapter 4

The passage Jolda had picked out was perfect.

The target whose intelligence has been damaged will indeed be diminished, though not in the way associated with a person of subnormal intellectual acumen. The effects are best described as a kind of slowing. The target will struggle to complete sentences and will often be entirely unable to follow a conversation. In an example that I have observed, the target continually addressed the conversation’s opening topic, seemingly unaware that the participants had moved on. At times, the target may show flashes of their original intelligence, but these will be rare.

He might as well have been writing about Tiphannia.

Jeval stashed the book at his house and spent the rest of the day working at the Lucky Lockup, not able to concentrate but doing his best to scrub tables and serve patrons. He bolted the moment his shift ended, ran home, grabbed the book, and rushed to the warehouse where Treads worked.

The sun was settling into the west by the time he reached her. Workers busied themselves lighting the grimy lanterns that hung over the levees, their reflected glow like soiled stars in the dark water. Treads was already standing outside with a few other Argonians that he’d never seen before.

“…don’t mind doing it, actually. Just wish it didn’t take so long,” Treads said. She lifted her head as Jeval approached. “Oh, hey!”

“Treads! Jolda got me this book. You gotta take a look, this describes Tiphannia 100%!” he gushed, panting and out-of-breath.

“Who’s this?” one of Treads’s friends asked.

“Jeval,” she said. “I told you about him.”

Jeval skidded to a stop and put his free hand on his knee, gulping in the air. He needed to work on his endurance if he was going to follow in his dad’s footsteps.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m Jeval. We go way back.”

“I’m Damp-With-Dew,” said one, his voice so deep it seemed to shake the air. He wore a hood, and it was too dark for Jeval to make out any details.

“Acclesia,” said the other, her voice thin and whispery.

“Looks like Jeval and I are going to help an old friend,” Treads said. “See you around?”

“For sure,” Damp-With-Dew said. “Good meeting you, Jeval.”

The two Argonians walked into the thinning crowd. “New friends?” Jeval asked.

“Relatively. Can I see the book?”

“Yeah,” he said, handing it over. “Page 45.”

Treads took the book and stood next to the nearest torch, squinting as she tried to make out the text. Her throat bulged for a moment, and the tip of her tail curled up like it always did when something surprised her.

“This does sound like Tiphannia.”

“Right? I say we go.”

“Doesn’t it strike you as a little creepy that the author of this book keeps referring to this person as a ‘target’? Like did he cast a spell on them to study the reaction?”

Jeval shrugged. “Uh, kinda? I didn’t read the whole thing. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do about it now.”

“Wait, hold on. Did you keep reading?”

“No. I went to work after I saw Jolda.”

“It says that the… target,” Treads growled out the word, as if it tasted bad, “is still on some level aware of what’s happening around them while under the spell. And they’ll remember it all when the spell’s reversed.”

“Even better, right? We won’t have to like, fill her in.”

“Sure. But you know, we sometimes treated Tiphannia like a joke. I’m… probably guiltier of this than most.”

Jeval thought about that a bit. “I mean, that’s what friends do, right? We mess with each other.”

“Because we’re all in on it. I’m not sure Tiphannia was. My point’s that, if she’s enchanted in this way and we reverse it, she might not be entirely happy with us.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. She’ll just be glad we fixed her.”

“Hmm.” Treads looked out along the river. “We have to do it anyway. But she might not be as happy with us as you think.”

They made good time on the way to the Blumius home, up north in the nice part of the Commercial District.

“Oh, shoot,” Jeval said, as they got closer. “Uh, your dad doesn’t like you wandering around at night. I don’t want to get you in trouble—”

“I don’t like wandering around at night, either. But I know how to handle myself. And my dad needs to accept that so long as things stay the way they are, it’ll never be safe for Argonians, night or day.”

“Huh?”

Treads shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

By the time they got to the Blumius home, Jeval was wishing he’d dressed a little nicer.

“So, I’ll lay it out,” he said, standing in front of the door. “Keep it simple.”

“You know, we should’ve probably asked Quinn to do this. She knows how to handle people better than us.”

“You want to wait and bring her in?”

Treads thought about it for a moment. “No, we’re already here.”

“Then let’s go.”

Jeval knocked on the door. Tiphannia opened it, staring at them with her usual expression of dull surprise.

“Oh… it’s you… guys…”

“Hey, Tiphannia!” Suddenly, Jeval wondered if they should talk to her first. But there was no way to explain it to her. “Can I talk to your folks?”

“Why… do you want… to talk… to them?”

“Some business stuff,” Treads said. “Nothing to do with fashion.”

Jeval gulped. He hadn’t really understood what Treads had meant earlier, about Tiphannia not being “in on it”, but now he did. This felt awkward.

“Dad… Jeval wants to talk to you… about business…”

“On my way, dear!” came Mr. Blumius’s cheerful voice.

Tiphannia wandered off, and her father, a red-faced Imperial with a bad combover, took her place.

“Ah, always good to see my daughter’s friends,” he said. “I’m a little surprised you want to speak with me, however. You never struck me as especially, well, business-minded.”

His smile was big, but Jeval noticed that he didn’t motion for them to step inside. In fact, he was blocking the doorway with his bulk. Mr. Blumius wasn’t that tall, but he was still pretty strong. He’d served in the Imperial Navy when he was young, and said he still did the daily exercises.

“Uh, hi, Mr. Blumius. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about Tiphannia.”

The smile didn’t go away but his eyes turned hard. “Oh? You’re not a… suitor, are you?”

Blood rushed to Jeval’s face. Because no self-respecting Imperial would let his daughter marry a Bosmer. Skinny stunted jungle-elves like him were the lowest you could get before hitting beastfolk, right?

Beastfolk like Treads.

Jeval exhaled. Dammit, now he was buying into their bullshit. He shook his head.

“No. I already have a girlfriend,” he lied. “It’s more, well…”

Instantly, Mr. Blumius relaxed. His smile no longer seemed fake. “Ah, beg your pardon then.”

Treads decided to step in. “We think Tiphannia might be cursed. We did some research, and the way she behaves is exactly like someone who’s been targeted with a ‘damage intelligence’ spell.”

“A damage… excuse me, what?”

“There are spells that can mess up a person’s traits,” Jeval explained. “Including their smarts. Here, I got this book from the Mages Guild. Look on page 45.”

He handed the book to Mr. Blumius, who took it and opened it up. His eyes went back and forth as he read the passage, his brow furrowing like someone trying to concentrate on something strange and boring.

“This is interesting,” he said. “But what proof do you have?”

“We don’t have proof,” Treads admitted. “But you have to admit, that does sound like your daughter. It’s not too expensive to have these spells reversed with a blessing at the cult shrine: 35 septims, I think. And if she is under a spell, clearing it will make a big difference for her.”

“Well, perhaps. But you may be overthinking this. To me, Tiphannia seems perfectly normal for a girl her age. She loves clothes, baubles, talking about boys. I’ll concede she’s a little slower than most, but her future will be one of respectable wifehood and motherhood. She’s certainly capable of that. Her husband and servants can take care of the details.”

Jeval’s jaw dropped.

A long, vibrating sigh escaped Treads’s mouth. That meant she was pissed. But she knew better than to show it. “Of course. But it might still be more helpful for her—and you, and her future husband—if her intelligence is restored.”

“Which again, assumes she been magically diminished. I still don’t see proof.”

“I mean, I get that her interests are, uh, normal for her age,” Jeval said. “But she is kind of, well, off. Like compared to Quinn.”

Mr. Blumius laughed. “Quinn’s an altogether remarkable girl. I wouldn’t even expect most boys to reach her level. You also have to take Tiphannia’s background into account. Yes, we raised her in the Imperial way, but her blood is Quey. Who can really say what goes on in those peoples’ heads?”

“I’ve met another Keptu-quey,” Treads said. “He did not act like Tiphannia.”

“Tiphannia is fine for her position. I appreciate you bringing this to my attention, but unless an authorized mage can confirm she is indeed cursed in this way, I don’t see any reason to take action. Your concern is laudable. But misguided. If there’s nothing else?”

Jeval tried to figure out a good response. But nothing came up. Gods, what would Daria or Quinn do? They’d think of something.

“That’s all, Mr. Blumius,” Treads said. “Thank you for your time.”

“Have a good evening, then!” he said, waving before he closed the door.

Jeval stared at the closed door, not quite believing what had happened. He’d always gotten kind of a weird vibe from Mr. Blumius. But he hadn’t expected that. Thinking Tiphannia acted that way because of where she was from, not caring since her being dumb didn’t affect any of his plans.

Tiphannia wasn’t smart, but she wasn’t the stupidest one in her family, that was for sure.

“He’s not going to listen to us,” Treads said.

“We should’ve gotten Quinn.”

“I’m not sure he’d have listened to her, either. Though maybe she could’ve figured out a way to get him to do what she wanted without him realizing it.”

“Yeah, she’s scary good at that. So, what now?”

“How much would it cost to get a mage to check Tiphannia?” Treads asked.

“Jolda didn’t say, just that it’d be more expensive than taking her to the temple and getting her restored.”

Treads nodded. “Then let’s pool our money together and, uh, take her to the altar. So to speak.”

“Temple or shrine?”

“I don’t want to give money to either of them. But the temple’s closer, so let’s just do that.”

That surprised Jeval a little. Treads hated Morrowind and the Tribunal. Seemed like she should prefer the Imperial shrine, but apparently not.

“You sure?” he asked. “Is that allowed? Because Tiphannia’s family follows the Nine. Same as mine.”

“Positive. The Imperial Cult says it’s okay to use Tribunal Temple services for this sort of thing. Probably because they don’t want outlanders to have to march six miles to Moonmoth every time they get sick.”

“Guess that makes sense.”

“It will be tough to explain to Tiphannia why we’re taking her.”

“Let’s have Quinn do that,” Jeval said. “She’ll know how.”

“Agreed.”

Posted by: Acadian Oct 15 2023, 08:29 PM

’Skinny stunted jungle-elves like him were the lowest you could get before hitting beastfolk, right?’
- - Ouch! Tiphannia’s dad’s accusatory question to Jevel had to smart. Buffy’s heard it all: ‘Scrawny bark-biting acorn elves.’ ‘I’d rather sleep with my horse than a Bosmer.’ Sigh. Jeval’s right though that our tailed friends have it worse.

’Tiphannia wasn’t smart, but she wasn’t the stupidest one in her family, that was for sure.’
- - Yeah, Jeval has the right of it here. What are Tiphannia’s true friends supposed to do?

Sure enough, Treads and Jeval come up with ‘mod one’ to their plans – an intervention, using Quinn’s finesse to help pull it off. What could go wrong?

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 15 2023, 09:33 PM

Treads' new friends seem a little sus. Has she joined a resistance movement? The Twin Lamps?

Treads has some self-awareness here, in realizing that they have not always been charitable to Tiphanna. Jeval of course, completely ignores her valid concerns...

Okay, Treads has decided to do something about the prejudice and violence that people like herself face. She must have joined the Scale Panthers.

Hmmm, maybe they should have just talked to Tiphanna about it directly, instead of bringing her parent's into it?

Skinny stunted jungle-elves like him were the lowest you could get before hitting beastfolk, right?
Ouch, some real internalized bigotry poor Jeval has. Unless that was meant in an acidic, sardonic fashion. But it did not feel like the latter. It is not hard to see why he would feel that way. The games themselves make male Bosmer out to be the objects of ridicule. And they clearly show that beastfolk are outright oppressed.

I am not surprised that Mr. Tiphanna put up a roadblock to doing anything. At least he did not take their theory as a personal insult. He seemed to have some of his own when it came to Mrs. Tiphanna's ethnic heritage.

So, Plan B. Maybe they can convince Tiphanna that the Temple is having a sale on the new ecclesiastical fashions?

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Oct 19 2023, 03:49 PM

@Acadian - And not only do the Beastfolk have it worse, Jeval realizes he's mentally buying into stereotypes harsher than the ones people apply to him. These kinds of things are insidious.

As for what could go wrong... read and see.

@SubRosa - You'll see more of Treads's new friends later on in the story.

This is one element I'm not sure I did enough to set up, since I don't think Outlanders ever showed Treads being especially mean to Tiphannia. But I do think it matches somewhat with Treads's personality. She's a lot like Daria in that she's sharp and sarcastic. And Tiphannia just made for an easy target.

Yeah, that was definitely internalized bigotry. The Bosmer aren't as marginalized as the Beastfolk, but they are definitely marginalized.

My schema for this is that the Imperials and Nords are the most privileged groups. Imperials slightly more so outside of Skyrim, but not by that much. Then there are the Bretons and Redguard, who are both a bit Othered: the Bretons for having Mer heritage, and the Redguard for coming from a different continent.

Gets a little blurrier after that, but I figured the Altmer and Dunmer are both fairly high up since they come from societies that are either influential on the Empire (Altmer) or relatively intact despite colonization (Dunmer), and have surviving noble families/institutions. This power only grows in their home provinces. Bosmer are a bit odd since they're actually better integrated into the Empire than the other Mer, so they're culturally more accepted in some places, but also taken less seriously. The Orcs might also be in this level; despite being Beastfolk, the Empire finds them useful as soldiers, which gives them a bit of cultural capital.

Now comes the groups without full provincial reputation: Reachmen, Rimmenese, Keptu-quey. A lot of people wouldn't even be aware of them.

Then you have the Khajiit and Argonians.

Yeah, Mr. Blumius isn't a great guy.

Chapter 5

It took a few days to get everything set up for restoring Tiphannia. Job schedules were way tougher to get around than the old school schedule. Satheri and Tiphannia didn’t work, but Satheri was so busy with wedding stuff that she had less spare time than anyone else. But they finally nailed a date for it. They all agreed to pitch in seven septims for the restoration, which was pretty trivial even for Jeval and Treads.

“We should’ve done this in the first place,” he’d said.

Treads was already waiting at St. Roris square by the time Jeval got there on a bright but cold Loredas morning. She stood at the edge of the square, where the sun met the shade, her eyes on a ragged Dunmer staggering around the middle with his arms outstretched.

“Remember gloried Resdayn and the ways of old!” he bellowed. “In the days of Lord Dagoth! In the days when law ruled the land. And know that these days shall return! Blight shall drive the foreigners from our sacred soil! Woe to you, Empire! Woe to you, beasts-that-walk-like-Mer!”

Crazy drifters weren’t rare in Balmora. Except he’d been seeing way more guys like that lately; all talking about weird Dunmer stuff. They usually got shut down pretty quick, but it seemed like each time one got taken away, two more popped up.

In fact, there was already a pair of armored guards marching up to the preacher. He didn’t seem to know they were there as they took him by his arms, still shouting about Dagoth and Nerevar and outlanders.

Jeval took position next to Treads as the guards marched him away.

“Weird stuff,” he said.

“It’s always reassuring when I see someone who hates me arrested by people who hate me slightly less,” Treads remarked.

Treads had changed over the last half-year or so. She’d always been mad about how badly the Dunmer treated beastfolk like her. But her anger was getting deeper.

It wasn’t fun for Jeval. But he got why she felt that way. And she wasn’t wrong. So, he stood by her.

They’d only been waiting a few minutes when Satheri’s dad, Ulnar Roweni, arrived with his wife, Naldra, both of them decked out in embroidered silk that they must’ve imported from the Imperial City. Between them was what looked like a walking pile of purple and red fabrics.

It took Jeval a few seconds to realize that the pile was Satheri herself, wrapped up in religious clothes and veils.

“Hi!” Satheri said, her voice muffled behind all the veils. She struggled to lift her arm and wave.

“Hey, Satheri!” But why were her parents there? “Uh, hi, Sera Roweni,” he said to her dad. “Sera Roweni,” he repeated, to her mom.

Kind of awkward that Dunmer didn’t use gendered titles. But it didn’t seem to bother them. Both the Rowenis smiled.

“Good to see you, Jeval. Treads-on-Ferns,” Sera Ulnar Roweni said.

No one in the Fashion Club would ever say it, but Satheri’s parents had a better sense of style than her. Sure, Satheri dressed great, but only when Quinn coached her. Satheri’s mom and dad always put on the finest fittest silks and looked like they each spent a big chunk of the day getting their hair just right. They looked the way he imagined rich people in the Imperial City would look.

“Hey,” Treads waved.

Jeval looked back to his friend. There hadn’t been any talk about Satheri’s parents coming.

“Oh, I’m sure you are wondering why we’re here,” Sera Ulnar Roweni said. “Quinn told us about the situation with Tiphannia. We decided we’d cover the restoration fee. Tiphannia’s been a good friend to our little girl—as you all have—and there’s no harm in trying this.”

Of the five of them, Satheri had the richest parents. If some of the rumors were true, richest by a lot.

“That’s really cool of you! Thanks,” he said.

“It’s nothing. Also, the temple is crowded right now, due to the recent… controversies. We already have a space reserved for our daughter’s second blessing—Vehk be praised—and we can get you in as well.”

“I love Tiphannia no matter what. But the curse thing makes a lot of sense. So yeah, we should try,” Satheri said.

It was Quinn who brought Tiphannia, putting her arm over the Keptu-quey girl’s shoulders like she was guiding her. Quinn wore the yellow dress she loved, the one where the shade matched the red of her hair just right, and that had white lace on the hems and ends of the sleeves. No way would she ever be upstaged.

Though Tiphannia came close. Her turquoise dress stood out from the boring old adobe and was made of the kind of silk that shimmered a bit when the light hit it. The spell might have messed up most of her brain, but it hadn’t hit her fashion sense.

“But… I don’t even… worship… the Tribunal…” Tiphannia said.

“I know, Tiphannia! But we’re not going for worship. It’s just to, you know, clear things up for you.” Quinn turned to the rest. “Hi guys. I tried to explain it.”

“We should go to the… shrine… but Moonmoth… is so boring… and dusty…”

“Exactly! Which is why we’ll go the temple, instead!”

*********

The temple was packed.

Jeval hadn’t been there before. But there was no way the place usually had so many people. Hundreds of Dunmer stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the grounds outside the sanctuary, and through the gate he could see a bunch more waiting in the courtyard. It smelled weird, too. They’d been burning enough incense to put Red Mountain to shame.

“Patience is a virtue,” an elderly priestess said. But it didn’t look like it was a virtue many people cared about. Around her, the Dunmer talked and shouted over each other. Some knelt on the dirt with their heads bowed, muttering prayers.

“Whoa, this is weird,” Jeval said. “Satheri, what’s going on?”

She whimpered. “Uh…”

“There are some theological matters being discussed, right now,” Ulnar explained. “They aren’t things you need to worry about. Stay focused. Muthsera Sadri!”

He drew himself up to call over at the priestess, who stopped mid-lecture to look at him.

“Muthsera Roweni. A moment.”

The priestess put her hands in her sleeves and hurried toward them. The Rowenis all gave slight bows the way the Dunmer did, with Jeval and the other outlanders doing the same a second later (though Quinn had to push Tiphannia a bit).

“Forgive me, Muthsera Roweni. I knew there would be many faithful here today, but I did not anticipate this many. I fear we simply cannot perform the blessings properly.”

Satheri gasped. Jeval didn’t need to see her face to know she was about to cry. It didn’t take much with Satheri.

Quinn took Satheri’s hand. “Hi. Not to interrupt or anything—”

“You are interrupting, outlander!” the priestess barked.

Stunned, Quinn said nothing.

Ulnar intervened. “I understand these are trying times, Muthsera Sadri. But my family has a great deal riding on this. Could we maybe perform the ceremony outside the temple? It’s mostly symbolic—”

“Death to false doctrines!” shouted a Dunmer woman in the crowd. A bunch of other people cried out and lifted their arms to the sky.

This was getting creepy. What’s worse: they were scared. He wasn’t sure of what, but it was plain as day.

Sadri shuddered but kept her focus. “With respect to your generous donations, Muthsera Roweni, no. It is not mostly symbolic. It is the soul of our people! Come tomorrow, at sun-up. We will clear a space for your daughter. But please be on time. We cannot reserve it for long.”

“But… but what if it’s too crowded again?” Satheri cried. “Maybe that means I can’t be married!”

Satheri wasn’t much of an actor. If she sounded sad and scared, well, she was. But he already knew the marriage scared her, too.

Maybe this was good?

“Nonsense, dearest,” Ulnar said. “It only makes things a little more complicated, but we’ll find a way. And your husband-to-be is a very modern Dunmer; we made sure of that. He won’t mind a few irregularities in the rituals.”

“Oh, okay,” Satheri said, sniffling.

“Wait,” Treads said. “We still need—”

Ulnar brightened up. “Of course! Muthsera Sadri, one of my daughter’s dearest friends is in need of healing.” He gestured to Tiphannia. “We fear she may be cursed. I know the crowds are thick, but I’m sure there’s something that can be done.”

Sadri looked back and forth between Ulnar and Tiphannia. Then she nodded. “Yes, of course. We have set up a few temporary altars to ALMSIVI,” she said, gesturing to the edge of the temple grounds. People already surrounded the altars, placing coins and jewels and flowers on top of them.

“Make way, make way!” Sadri proclaimed. She angrily gestured to a pair of bulky Dunmer in robes, low-ranking priests maybe, who ran up and took position on either side of her. The three slowly pushed through the crowds to make a path for the Fashion Club and the senior Rowenis.

Most of the Dunmer didn’t notice. But a few did, shooting angry glares at the outlanders moving through.

“We should’ve gone to Fort Moonmoth,” Jeval muttered.

But no one did anything worse than shoot them nasty looks. Sadri chanted as she went.

“Remember the agonies of flesh and bone so suffered by blessed St. Seryn, all so others might be whole in mind and body! The pain we take is spared others! Contemplate this and grow strong!”

“It’s so… noisy…” Tiphannia said. “Like those… riots…”

“We’re almost there, Tiphannia,” Quinn said. She didn’t look scared exactly, but Jeval could tell she wanted to get out.

Hell, they all did.

“So, like, how does this work, Sera Roweni?” Quinn asked.

“Perhaps honored Muthsera Sadri should explain,” he said.

The priestess frowned and stepped behind the altar. “I will simplify this since you are not temple adherents. Pay 35 drakes, and I will restore your friend.”

“I’ll assume the cost for this,” Ulnar said, and handed the priestess a pouch bulging with coin.

“Have her kneel before the altar.”

“Okay, Tiphannia. Just kneel down like this,” Quinn said.

“But my dress… will get… dirty…”

“I know, but we can clean it later!”

“It’s… moth-silk… from Locutta… which is like… really high… quality…”

“Just do this for me!” Quinn fumed. She pressed down on Tiphannia’s shoulders, and the girl finally knelt in the grass.

Sadri raised her arms. “May you be restored in mind, and body, and soul. May your afflictions flee to the Four Corners of the House of Troubles! All blessings come from ALMSIVI.”

Jeval sensed it then. That weird prickly sensation in the air that always came with magic. Sadri’s hands glowed with white light. A second later, so did Tiphannia. She gasped.

The light vanished. Tiphannia still knelt, her eyes open and her lips quivering, like she’d seen something wild.

Then her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she slumped onto the altar.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 19 2023, 08:35 PM

Satheri’s parents willfully joining in and lending their support certainly helped. A lot, as it turns out. Especially given the semi-hostile crowds at the temple. It must be the local ‘hate everyone but Dunmer’ day.

Wow, even Quinn’s getting flustered as they all wonder if Fort Moonmoth might have indeed been a better idea.

Well, whatever Priestess ‘Shut up, outlander’ did, something happened for sure. I’ll hope Tiphannia recovers for the better.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 20 2023, 11:13 PM

Uh oh, it looks like one of the Sleepers has Awoken in the square. Joan of Cheydinhal will set that right...

I love the description of Satheri as a walking pile of silks!

Wow, sounds like Satheri's parents are pretty dope.

Well, we would not want to go to that dusty and boring fort.

At first I was wondering if it was a holiday that everyone forgot about. But it looks like more of Dagoth Ur's cult is stirring up trouble at the Temple. That dusty and boring fort is starting to look pretty good right now.

Oh my that was certainly quite the show that the Temple healer and Tiphanna put on. It sure looks like something was going on with her after all. But what remains to be seen.

Posted by: Renee Oct 21 2023, 06:01 AM

Ha ha yeah, sometimes friends mess with each other, sometimes!

Everyone is concerned about Tiphannia. But what does Tiphannia think? Does she think she has a problem?

The red-faced Imperial with a combover sounds like a Mike Judge sidekick! Like the gym teacher/sergeant guy on B&B. WOW he immediately assumes Jeval's a suitor. Hello.

Blumius doesn't freak out when they present him with their spiel. I thought maybe he'd kick them out or something. Fortunately, not so.

Okay, father's not mad, but he is clueless. 🙄

Don't worry about the dad, just do what you have to so you can see if the slow-one is cursed or not! (sorry, talking to my monitor screen). OKay yeah, Treads got it. Sometimes you gotta take care of things yourself. So assuming they go through with this and the Tiphannia actually IS cursed, and this curse gets reversed, wow. We could see a whole different person during the next few chapters.

Lemme finish the next chapter in the morning. I'm wasted right now.

Edit, I'm back. Went out to Baltimore last night to see a friend's band. Two drinks, that's my new mid-life limit, Clav! 🍷 Wasn't actually wasted, but yeah, good thing I switched to water during the second act. "Tipsy typing" I used to call it, back in the early days of the Internet when chatting was all the rage.

Anyway, Where was I? Uh ... somebody is bellowing. Sounds like you've got Sleepers in your Balmora too! Presumably, all the events of the Nerevar have already occurred though, right? ... Yeah, sounds like it. The bellow-er is talking in past-tense.

OH my gosh, look at Satheri! All decked in purple.

This sounds so much like my aunt. My family (mom's side) were involved with a fashion studio, mostly for black women in B'more. I never participated much, I was forced to walk a runway when I was like 6 or 7, and didn't like it. Kinda wish I had gotten into it more, now that I'm older. But this is sooo true... about the divas not wanting to get upstaged! 👩🏾‍🤝‍👩🏻 you really have the pulse on how that all works, Clavier.

Whoa, Ulnar and Satheri are trying to get married on this day? Sheesh, what a mess. Dunmer practices, man. Guess this is the way they do things. This sounds sort of like Vegas marriages though, right? Like, in LV, it's possible to get married with groups of strangers (from what I've heard, maybe Acadian can clear this up), married by Elvis, even! I'd rather have THAT than getting married in this stuffy, steamy dark elf temple.

Anyway, now I kind of feel a little bad for laughing at Tiphannia earlier in this story. She's got an actual, legitimate disorder or curse. Guess we'll find out.

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Oct 22 2023, 08:38 PM

@Acadian - So the reason things are so stirred up is because the events of Morrowind, the game, are happening at the same time. It's causing a lot of social trouble among the Dunmer, though outlanders like Jeval only have a vague idea as to what's going on.

@SubRosa - Heh, Joan will have her work cut out for her.

Satheri's parents are pretty caring by the standards of wealthy Hlaalu.

At this point, the claims of the Nerevarine are stirring up more trouble than Dagoth Ur. But they both play a part.

@Renee - That's a good question, and one that this story will explore in a bit more detail.

Heh, two drinks is about my limit as well.

Not all of the events of the Nerevarine events have occurred, but they're getting to the point where they can't be ignored. At this point, the Temple's still trying to deny there's a problem and that the Nerevarine prophecies are just nonsense.

Oh, I had no idea you ever had involvement in fashion! Yeah, I can't imagine young me would have liked doing that either, but it is an interesting experience.

So Satheri's not being married just yet. In Chapter 2, it's mentioned that she has to do six rituals at the temple before she goes off to meet her husband-to-be. Since Ulnar is Satheri's dad, he's just making sure the rituals are all performed (though in his case, it's more for show since he's a more modern Dunmer).

A Vegas wedding is definitely simpler than a Dunmer one.

Chapter 6

They retreated to the safety of the Roweni house.

There, Quinn fanned Tiphannia’s face and talked to her as Satheri let the girl’s head rest in her lap. Treads sat on the ground below the couch, a bowl of water in her hands. Tiphannia had sipped from it the first time it was offered, but nothing since.

Meanwhile, Jeval twisted the fabric of his tunic (the way you weren’t supposed to) and wondered how badly he’d screwed everything up. He should’ve just kept his stupid idea to himself.

The seras Roweni were upstairs, arguing about something. He couldn’t hear what, but it sounded pretty intense.

“Hey, Jeval?” Treads had sidled up next to him.

“Yeah?”

“You doing okay?”

“No. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“Just stay calm. Look, you were right about one thing: something was going on with Tiphannia. Otherwise, the ritual wouldn’t have done anything.”

“Yeah, but I might’ve hurt her!”

“Just wait. Think about it: if you suddenly got your regular brain back after years and years of it being messed up, you’d be disoriented, too.”

They waited and watched for what seemed like forever. Treads was about to give Tiphannia some more water when her eyes opened and looked right at Jeval. He could already tell there was something different about her. Usually, it always felt like Tiphannia had her eyes on something behind you and far away. But this time? They actually looked at each other.

“Tiphannia? Are you awake?” Satheri asked.

“Yeah… I’m awake.”

“Are you okay? Is anything messed—”

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice quiet.

“Oh, thank the Divines!” Quinn said.

“Praise ALMSIVI,” Satheri cried.

“Yeah, thank the Divines,” Jeval said. “Tiphannia, do you know what happened?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I remember… all the stuff you said. About how I might’ve been like… cursed or something. You were right.”

“So, you’re not cursed anymore! That’s wonderful!” Quinn exclaimed.

All at once, she and Satheri had Tiphannia between their arms, hugging her as tight as they could.

“Fashion Club group hug, guys!” Quinn said.

“Wait!”

That was Tiphannia. She pushed back at the two, and they let go, both with shocked looks.

“There’s like… so much going on in my head right now. All this time… nothing ever made sense to me. But now, I can like… fit it together.”

She still paused a lot. Maybe that’s just how she spoke.

“That’s good, right?” Quinn asked.

“I… I don’t know. Jeval?”

He gulped. Now he was starting to get why Treads wasn’t so sure Tiphannia would be happy with all this. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. I think. It’s… a lot to deal with.”

“For sure,” Treads said. She knelt next to Tiphannia. “Do you want some time alone?”

Tiphannia didn’t say anything right away, her eyes going around the room as if she’d never really seen it before. She shivered, and then nodded.

“Give her some space,” Treads said. “Tiphannia, do you want to go home?”

“Yeah. I’m not feeling sick… or anything. I’m not like… mad at you guys. But this is kind of… a lot.”

“I can walk you home, if you need,” Treads offered.

“We’ll all walk you home!” Quinn offered.

“No. Thanks… but no. One person’s all I can take right now.”

Treads glanced back at Quinn. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay,” Quinn said. “And Tiphannia, we’re there for you, okay? All of us!”

“Always!” Satheri added.

Treads led Tiphannia out the door. Satheri went up the stairs to tell her parents that Tiphannia had recovered, and her father came back down with her.

“I wish you’d told us before she left! But this is good, very good. I’m sure she’s just adjusting to her restoration,” Ulnar said. But he didn’t look so sure of himself. “Anyway, you girls—and Jeval—are welcome to stay for supper. I’ll instruct Livia to prepare a larger dinner. I think we’ve all had a harder day than expected.”

Treads came back a bit later, and they all stuck around the Roweni house. But it wasn’t much fun. How could it be? Jeval kept to himself as best he could, taking a plush chair in the corner of the living room. He’d never liked visiting the Roweni house. Everything inside was overstuffed, heavy, and delicate. Each time he moved he worried he’d break something expensive.

Everyone else talked in quiet voices, usually about Tiphannia though Quinn sometimes tried to push the subject elsewhere. Meanwhile, Livia, the Rowenis’ live-in maid, prepped roast kwama for everyone. It smelled good, at least.

It was Satheri who came to check on Jeval, her sad red eyes searching.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Huh? I guess. Wondering if I did the right thing.”

“I know. Nothing’s simple anymore, is it? And all this talking makes my head hurt.”

She sat down next to him.

“Thanks for always being there,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re normal. Muthsera Morgendorffer’s always leading things. Tiphannia’s totally out of it until, like, today. Treads is usually kind of mad. Me?” She shook her head and half-laughed, half-sobbed. “I’m just pathetic. But you balance us all out,” Satheri said.

Jeval shook his head. “Whoa, you aren’t—”

“I am. I’m glad you’re here, okay?”

“Uh, sure.”

They were called up to dinner soon after. Livia pulled in another table for the lot of them and it still wasn’t enough, so they squeezed in elbow-to-elbow as the glazed kwama was served with blue-glass bowls of spiced saltrice stew.

Sera Ulnar Roweni carried the conversation, making little jokes that sometimes were even funny. It was after the soup course that Jeval decided to find out what was going on in Morrowind.

“Sera Roweni?”

“Yes, Jeval?”

“Not to get too personal, but what was going on in the temple today? If you don’t mind saying.”

Ulnar’s smile faded, and he slowly exhaled. “It’s fine, I can tell you the basics. As residents of Morrowind, you all have a right to know.”

Satheri’s face crinkled up, and she shot an annoyed look at Jeval. He shrugged, but her dad had already started.

“I don’t know how well most of you know Tribunal theology. The short version is that, thousands of years ago in the First Era, the Tribunal’s champion was one Lord—now Saint—Indoril Nerevar. He was a great hero to the Dunmer people. But he died defending the Dunmer from the Dwemer and the Sharmat.

“Now, there are the so-called Nerevarine Prophecies. These state that Nerevar will be reincarnated—”

“Reincarnation is not temple doctrine,” his wife added.

“Of course, Naldra. Anyway, some believe that Saint Nerevar will be reincarnated as this Nerevarine and bring the old ways back to Morrowind. It’s silly. But you get the occasional crackpot who decides that he’s the Nerevarine and tries to fulfill the prophecy. Always ends the same way, of course. The temple ordinators break up the cult and, ah, correct the would-be savior. Problem solved, everyone goes home happy.”

Treads made the high-pitched hiss she always made when someone said something offensively stupid. Jeval raised his eyebrows. He didn’t believe the ‘everyone goes home happy’ part, either.

“But this year it seems as if there’s a Nerevarine with a bit of staying power. I’d been hearing bits and pieces of this since late spring, but it’s reached critical mass this month. There are rumors—baseless, mind you—that this Nerevarine now has support from the great houses. As if Great House Hlaalu would ever support some self-proclaimed Nerevarine!

“I promise you; things will soon settle down. None of these Nerevarine crazes ever last long, and why should they? The prophecies are all based on a misunderstanding.”

“Yeah, this Nerevarine stuff sounds silly,” Quinn remarked.

Jeval still wanted to know more. “What about those preachers? The ones who always talk about Dagoth?”

Ulnar drew back in his chair, his eyes going to the corners of the room. Then he leaned forward, speaking in a quiet voice. “Ah, well you have to understand I’m far too busy a Mer to research heresies in any detail. Suffice to say, Dagoth is the Sharmat—the Devil, if you will—"

A loud pounding came from the door. Ulnar jerked back from the table and the rice wine in his goblet splattered against the wall behind him. He stared at the door with an expression of absolute terror.

“Open up!” came a voice. A human one.

Ulnar relaxed, a little. “Everyone, stay here,” he said. He stood up from his chair and straightened his clothes. “I will see what the matter is. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

But Satheri and her mother were hugging each other, both scared out of their wits.

Jeval had to admit he was kind of relieved to see it was just Mr. Blumius, his face as red as Masser and twice as bright. Satheri and her mother let go of each other and whispered prayers of thanks to ALMSIVI. He didn’t know what they’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. “What did you people do to my daughter!”

“Oh crap,” Jeval muttered. He hadn’t even thought about Tiphannia’s parents.

“We merely restored her at the temple,” Ulnar said. “I did find it curious you did not accompany—”

“You have no right to practice these heathen rituals on her!”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Were you not aware of this?” Ulnar glanced back at Quinn, who suddenly turned as stiff as a board.

“No, I was not!” Mr. Blumius said.

“I see. I was under the impression that you had been informed.”

“We did tell you, Mr. Blumius!” Quinn said, standing up. “Well, Jeval and Treads told you.”

This was bad. Quinn must’ve told Ulnar that they’d already squared things away with Tiphannia’s family. Because of course she’d said that; why would Ulnar help them unless he thought it was okay with the Blumiuses?

“Who? Wait, this little jungle elf? And his pet lizard?” Spittle flew from Mr. Blumius’s lips as he yelled.

Jeval saw red. Stay calm, he told himself. Losing his temper wouldn’t help him or anyone else. He wanted to deck the guy, though. Deck him hard.

Mr. Blumius wasn’t done yet. “I never gave them permission! Quinn should have sent her mother. Helen at least has credibility!” Mr. Blumius was shouting loud enough to get attention now. Through the (real) glass window in the front, Jeval saw shuttered windows opening and faces peering out.

Quinn raised her index finger, like she was making a point. “But your daughter was like, cursed. And she’s better now! We should—”

“That’s not the point! Tiphannia’s my daughter! Gods know what those ash-creeper priests did to her brain.”

“It was a standard restoration procedure, the same as she’d have gotten at the cult shrine,” Ulnar said quietly.

Quinn looked scared now. “But why would she be upset? This is a good thing—”

“It’s not a good thing! I am her father. Adoptive father, yes, but I am still her father. Maybe she was cursed, but how did it matter? Tiphannia was very easy to manage. We had plans for her. Now, you and your… savage lackeys have thrown everything awry.”

He turned his attention back to Ulnar. “And you Dunmer! Superstitious ingrates, all of you. After everything the Empire has done for your benighted province…”

Ulnar’s eyes narrowed into red slits. “You forget yourself, Sera Blumius. I’ve contributed far more to the Empire’s efforts in Morrowind than have you. Perhaps I must remind you that I am a member in good standing of Great House Hlaalu.”

He said each word of the last three words very slowly and loudly, and some of the bluster went out of Mr. Blumius’s face.

“Now these damned provincials think they can lord it over us! We’re too soft on you savages,” Mr. Blumius fumed.

“Clearly there was a communication error. Regrettable, but such things happen. We can discuss this further in our own time. If you’ll pardon me, I’m entertaining guests.”

“You haven’t heard the last of this!”

“I’m sure. Good evening, Sera Blumius,” Ulnar said, before shutting the door. He let out a long breath and leaned against the wall. Sweat glistened on his brow.

“It’s my fault, Sera Roweni,” Quinn said, her eyes downcast.

“No, it’s mine,” Jeval said. He was the one who’d gotten this whole thing rolling.

“Quinn: why in the world did you tell me that Mr. Blumius had given his permission? You are someone with a level of respect in the community. That you would—”

“But we wanted to help Tiphannia, Muthsera Roweni! I mean, we couldn’t just leave her cursed, right?”

Ulnar rubbed his brow with this thumb and index fingers. “I should say not. But you can’t expect a parent to not to be concerned.”

“And I can’t believe the horrible things Mr. Blumius was saying!” Quinn exclaimed. “You know must of us Imperials aren’t like that, right guys?”

“Totally,” Jeval said. Though he mostly said it to make Quinn feel better.

Ulnar made a dismissive wave with his free hand. “Of course, Quinn. Blumius was simply… venting. However, you cannot go around a father like that. A parent has certain rights when it comes to children. That’s true across all Tamriel, I imagine.”

“I am sorry, Muthsera Roweni,” Quinn said, lowering her head.

“We did try to tell him,” Treads said. “He wasn’t ever going to listen to us.”

Would he have listened to Quinn? Or her mom? Jeval couldn’t help wondering.

“Whatever the case, it’s done. We broke no law in helping Tiphannia. But even someone in my position must be careful. Reputation matters a great deal.” Ulnar straightened up, closed his eyes, and breathed in and out.

A moment later, all the tiredness was gone. He hurried back to the table, flashing a smile. “Now, where we were before that unpleasantness? I believe I was telling you about some of the fashion in Narsis. I daresay you’ll find the sartorial future of Morrowind in that city…”

Jeval wondered how Tiphannia felt about all this.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 22 2023, 11:01 PM

Your description of the scene with the girls clustered around Tiphanna suddenly has me thinking of a classic coterie of antebellum Southern belles all fanning themselves furiously because Mr. Darcy walked by soaking wet from swimming through the pond. I know I am mixing sources, but so what?

So Tiphanna is back. Sort of? She is speaking in quicker sentences at least. I hope the real problem is not that she picked up a magical flail from the Hyena Folk...

I can relate to Jeval's feeling of unease in the loudly wealthy Roweni home, especially when it comes to worrying about breaking something priceless. It is a nice subtle nod to their differences in class. You are keenly aware of these things when you are poor.

Ok, so those were the Dissident Priests making such a fuss at the temple, not Dagoth Ur's minions. That is a nice inclusion into the story. We hear about the dissidents in the game of course, but in the game we only see them as people who have been imprisoned, or otherwise in hiding. The game itself would not have been capable of depicting anything like the scene you described at the temple, or any sort of protest or march. It was just beyond their technology at the time. So you filling in that gap was some solid world-building.

The Nerevarine is around and has gained the backing of the Great Houses? Way to go Joan! Well, whoever is the Nerevarine in this universe. Maybe it is January of Detroit, or Blood Raven - Queen of Witches. It sounds like the main quest to Morrowind is very near its conclusion, and things are going to change dramatically, and rapidly, in Morrowind. Especially for the Tribunal Temple.

Don't hold back Blumius, tell us how you really feel about Jeval and Treads...

Yep, there it is. Tiphanna was easy to manage. He liked having her cursed. For the same reason lobotomies were so common in asylums, and then thorazine. They are so much easier to warehouse when they can't think. Now I wonder if he did it to her in the first place? Like how the Kennedy's had Rosemary lobotomized and put in an asylum.

I too, wonder how Tiphanna feels about all of this?

Posted by: Acadian Oct 23 2023, 12:04 AM

Wow, it looks like there was something to Jeval’s theory that Tiphannia was indeed somehow cursed. Hopefully the Fashion Club is right that a bit of time is all Tiphannia really needs now to adjust to her new upgraded brain.

Tiphannia’s dad continues to be quite the piece of work, spewing invectives at everyone in sight. Little jungle elf (Buffy’s heard that one before), pet lizard, ash-creeper priests, savage lackeys, superstitious ingrates, damned provincials . . . did we leave out anyone?

And the dirtbag wanted his daughter to remain cursed so she was ‘easy to control’?!? Looks like Tiphannia’s parents rival Synda’s at being unfit to raise children.

Satheri's father is a righteous dude and this episode really highlighted the good hearts that reside in Quinn's Fashion Club.

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Oct 26 2023, 03:53 PM

@SubRosa - Heh, I can definitely see that.

Tiphannia probably didn't run into a magical flail per se, but in regards to this and your last point, I actually never gave much thought as to exactly how she got cursed. I suppose I figured it was common enough in Tamriel that it just might have happened. I don't think Mr. Blumius got her cursed, since he's not really that clever. Just racist and sexist enough to assume this was "normal" for a Keptu-quey.

Yeah, it's always a little anxiety-provoking to be around so many nice and fragile things.

Not quite the Dissident Priests; they're still in hiding. Basically, it's at the point where a lot of people are talking about the Nerevarine coming back (by this point, the Nerevarine's already fulfilled a decent chunk of the main quest), but the Temple hasn't yet admitted it. But the regular Dunmer are all scared.

You'll see how Tiphannia feels a few chapters from now.

@Acadian - Jeval got it right.

Mr. Blumius is a pretty rotten person. Smug, self-satisfied, and deeply bigoted. Mr. Roweni has some issues perhaps, but he's a much better person.

Chapter 7

“Still don’t know if I did the right thing,” Jeval said.

His voice echoed along the deserted nighttime river market as he walked Treads back to her house. Now that it was late, all he could really think about was how mad her dad would be when he brought her home. But it couldn’t be helped.

“You lifted a curse. That’s pretty good, right?” Treads said.

“I think? But I messed things up for her.”

“Tiphannia’s life was already messed up because of that curse, however she got it. But Jeval? The only person who can say if it was right or not is Tiphannia. After talking to her a bit, I think it’ll be a while before she makes up her mind.”

Jeval breathed out a puff of steam and shoved his hands into his pockets. It was too damn cold for late Hearthfire.

“What if she decides I screwed up her life and hates me?”

“She won’t only hate you, Jeval. We all went along with it.”

“But it was my idea.”

“Yeah, well, who’s worse? The fool, or the fool who follows the fool? Is that how it goes? Maybe there wasn’t any clean solution to this one. We either let Tiphannia spend the rest of her life in a magic daze, or completely upend everything she knows.”

Seeing the Duke Vedam Dren Bridge leading to Labor Town, Jeval turned left to cross. But Treads made a gurgling growl deep in her throat.

“I hate this bridge,” she muttered.

“What? Why?”

“Because of who it’s named after. Duke Vedam Dren owns slaves. Mostly beastfolk like me. And the Dunmer and the Empire both love him.”

Jeval fell silent, feeling a bit stupid for not thinking of that.

“Yeah, to hell with him,” Jeval said. “Uh, we can cross at Foreigners’ Span. It’ll take a little longer. Hope your dad won’t get too mad.”

“He’ll already be mad at us for being late, so we might as well commit. He should be mad at this!” she said, pointing to the bridge.

“No kidding.”

“Wish I could break it.”

Anyone could hear the anger in her voice. Anger at something that’d been horrible for thousands of years and never seemed to get better. Jeval knew he couldn’t make it go away. But he wanted to make her feel better—make someone feel better—if only for a bit.

“Uh, I could pee on it, or something,” Jeval said.

He’d said it without thinking. But the words hung in the air, already spoken.

“Seriously?”

Had he offended her? He couldn’t tell. So, he kept going.

“Hey, I drank a lot of rice wine back at Muthsera Roweni’s place. I’m ready to go!”

His pointed ears burned, and his heart pounded. This was stupid. But no one was around. All the Dunmer were praying over this Nerevarine thing, and the outlanders didn’t care.

Treads started laughing.

“I don’t think you’ll do it,” she said, between laughs.

He grinned at her. “Oh yeah? Watch me! Wait, no, don’t watch me, that’s gross. But I’ll do it!”

Jeval jogged over to the bridge. He wanted to laugh at how silly this was. But he unbuttoned the front of his trousers, took it out, and let it flow.

Treads kept laughing, a low guttural laugh that she kept quiet to keep anyone beyond them from hearing. Jeval looked back over his shoulder and saw her doubled over, laughing like he’d never seen her laugh before.

And then he was done. He buttoned up and ran back, grabbing Treads by the forearm.

“Come on, let’s go!”

They ran, just the two of them. They ran without thinking where to go, other than the hell away from the scene of the crime.

“By the gods, Jeval, that was so juvenile! I love it!” she said.

“Promise me you won’t tell Quinn.”

“Can you imagine her reaction? She’d be so grossed—oh, gods, you actually did it! That’s amazing! Stupid, but amazing!”

“Shut up, shut up,” he said, trying not to laugh too loud, all the while panting as he ran. Oh, this was so stupid.

But he felt great.

They didn’t slow down until they reached the Foreigners’ Span, near the south wall.

“Let me catch my breath,” Treads said. She sat down at the midway point, letting her feet dangle above the Odai’s sluggish waters.

Jeval sat down next to her. He put his hands on the bridge’s rough surface and leaned back, turning his eyes up to the stars. Secunda was in full blue glory that night, but Masser was just a red sliver.

“So, uh, I’m thinking I might start doing courier work with my dad,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Could be fun. Sucks you won’t be around as much.”

“It won’t be that bad,” he explained. “Balmora’s going to be my main base, so we can still hang some of the time. But I need to do more than I’m doing. Help my folks out.”

“I hear you. It’s not like my warehouse clerk job helps much. My dad keeps telling me I should enlist in the fleet. I don’t think he actually wants me to. But whatever happens, I can’t stay in Morrowind forever. I won’t.”

“Hey, just had an idea,” he said.

“Please tell me it doesn’t involve peeing on infrastructure.”

“What if you did courier work with me? We could watch each other’s backs, build up some cash. When we get enough, we go somewhere else.”

Treads turned her head to look at him. Jeval couldn’t see the scales around her eyes shift in place like they always did when she was thinking about something, but he knew they were.

“I like that idea, Jeval. But it’s not safe for me. An Argonian on the road, even with a friend…”

Deflated, Jeval looked down at the water. “Not to tell you how to do things or anything, but my dad does know an Argonian courier who runs out of Vivec.”

“It’s more…” Treads trailed off.

“More what?”

“I don’t want to go and see the slavery that’s there in the countryside. Maybe I should go. Maybe it’s bad of me to hide in Balmora and pretend it’s not there. But I can’t handle that, not right now.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. How about this: you keep on doing the clerk stuff and I do courier work. We both save up some money, and when we have enough, we ditch this place.”

“Heh. I like that idea. Where do we go?”

“Cyrodiil, maybe? Wait, no! Hammerfell!”

“Huh. Any particular reason?” Treads asked.

“Always sounded like a cool place to be. Like over there you can’t even go to the cornerclub without having a heroic adventure or something.”

Treads chuckled. “Think that might be a little exaggerated.”

“Yeah, sure. But maybe there’s some truth to it, you know?”

“Could be. The climate there’s a bit dry for me. But I’ll manage.”

“We’d live by the coast, anyway. That’s where all the cool cities are. Deal? We save up, and then break for Hammerfell?” He looked at her, waiting.

Treads made that rumbling sound deep in her throat, the kind that meant she was happy. “Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s shake.”

They did, her scaly palm pressing against his soft skin.

“I always got your back, Treads. I mean that.”

“And I got yours, Jeval. Whatever happens.”

They stayed there a bit longer, talking about Quinn, Drenlyn, Hammerfell, and what seemed like everything else as the moons moved through the sky. But eventually, they had to go.

But he got scared again as they got closer to Treads’s house. Worse, Jeval felt like he’d let down her dad. Sure, the thing with Tiphannia gave them an excuse. But him peeing on a bridge and then running halfway across town?

That’d been stupid. And dangerous. And not really fair to whoever had to clean up the mess, who’d probably be some poor stiff like him.

If that made Mr. Flowers mad, Jeval couldn’t blame him.

As it turned out, Mr. Flowers was already waiting outside and leaning against the door. Jeval thought he looked like a dragon ready to strike, and then felt bad for thinking that.

“Late again. It’s past midnight. What do I have to do to get basic self-preservation through your skull, Treads-on-Ferns?”

“It’s my fault, Mr. Flowers—”

“Shut up, Jeval,” he growled.

Treads hissed in anger. “Why don’t you get mad at something worth getting mad about, for once in your life? There’s a lot worse going on than me staying out too late!”

“No, there isn’t! Because you’re my daughter, and you matter to me!”

“Which is why you took me to Morrowind. The only province in the Empire that enslaves people. Most of them, by the way, being people like us!” Treads shouted back.

Jeval already knew that this fight was going to be worse than the last. But he didn’t have a clue what he should do.

“Oh, you feel so strongly about this?” Mr. Flowers crossed his arms and took slow steps toward his daughter. “Then why don’t you do something about it. Go enlist with the Imperial Fleet, like I told you. You hate slavers? Then go kill them, with the emperor’s blessing.”

“Are you kidding me? The fleet and legion don’t do [censored]! All the Dunmer have to do is bribe a commander here, a ship captain there, and then they’re in Black Marsh, killing and kidnapping our people!”

“Treads…” Mr. Flowers growled.

“You know why, dad? You know why? Because your precious Empire makes money off it! Because the slave labor here means cheaper goods in the rest of the Empire! You honestly think anyone in the Empire is going to stop it? Are you that naïve?”

“I’m the only one here who has a clue! The Empire’s the only thing keeping our family safe. I’ve seen what Tamriel looks like without the Empire, and I’m telling you, you have no idea—”

“I don’t care!” Treads bellowed. “You’ll just keep making more excuses! How can you even stand living here? Fine, whatever. I’m not coming home.”

Treads immediately turned around and walked in the other direction.

“Where are you going?” Jeval asked. Her father asked the same, just louder and angrier.

A high-pitched rasping sound escaped her sharp-toothed mouth. Argonians didn’t shed tears. But she was crying.

“Treads?”

“I have some Argonian friends,” she said, her words interrupted by sobs. “Damp-with-Dew and Acclesia. I’m staying with them tonight.”

“Uh, okay,” Jeval said. He looked back. Her father was shouting, and windows were opening up. “I’ll come—”

“It’s fine, Jeval. I need to be by myself for a while. Or with them—by myself—I don’t know. I really, really didn’t want you to see that. Just go home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Helplessly, Jeval stood in place as his best friend stormed away, consumed by demons he’d never understand.

Posted by: Renee Oct 26 2023, 07:23 PM

Hey, quick question: what is your writing/editing process? I'm just curious because is Last Days all new material? Because I seem to remember Outlanders was written and posted on that other forum in the past, but then when you posted here, you made some changes here and there. Hope I got that right.

Here's the novella I wrote this year as a companion piece to Outlanders.

Are you still writing portions of it now, though? Or is the entire novella already written? Just curious. If you're still writing, how far are you into the future with the story?

An example. Acadian and Rosa write their stories months in advance. From what I understand, they're not even publishing until many months have passed. And there are drafts, edits, re-edits, long-term comparisons, and so on. From what I understand, Mrs. Acadian would oversee all the Buffy stories before they ever got posted here. 📚

In contrast, I've always been more of a 'deadline' writer. My mom wrote and later edited for a local newspaper before she retired, and I think I picked up those genetics. With newspapers, you're always publishing the latest stories, you're always pushing for what's happening now, and that is my process. My storywriting is rarely more than a month ahead the written word here in the forum, if that! I've got three or four Laprimas written roughly, and with Joan I'm maybe two weeks behind the actual story.

The upside from my perspective is I always feel "close" to the story, I always feel the excitement of the chase, I guess. The downside is plot holes, stuff which contradicts in the long run, character development which is supremely focussed towards the end, but a little lost early on, and so on. It's harder to make long-term adjustments to a story which is being written week-to-week, you follow?

Just curious what your approach is, because I delight in the fact we've got different methods. Hmm, maybe that wasn't such a quick Q!

Eeesh. I'd rather make my own mistakes. Anyway, where were we?

Is somebody noticing Jeval as he twists up that fabric? Seems like Quinn might be thinking you're not supposed to do that! Or is that from WellTemperedClavier's perspective? .. Or maybe just from the general perspective overall, the opinions of many in regards to how tunics should be treated?

Whoa, this is intense. Tiphannia really has been a different person all this time... lost underneath layers of *whatever* was holding her back. Yet she's still also the same, in a way. Huh. Sort of slow. But she doesn't seem like she's stoned anymore.

They're talking about the Nerevar now, yet even at this pleasant dinner discussion there are divergences. It's all so much like religious beliefs here on Earth, right? Most of us can't agree on any one thing, even within our own doctrines, sects, creeds, and so on!



Ha ha I Love that line! Anyway, I wonder who this Nerevarine-who's-gaining-acceptance could be? Do you have your own canon Nerevarine, Clav? Hmm. If so, maybe this could be who Ulnar's talking about: somebody with "staying power" in his words.

Uh oh, Blumius is here and he's MAD!!! Wow... jungle elf??? Hey, how can Jeval be from the jungle if he spends an hour a day primping before a mirror?

Wow, it sounds like Blumius was happy the daughter was cursed, right? He had 'control' over her. Whatever that means.

Oh gosh NO don't pee on the bridge... what the? Ugh. This isn't gonna end well...

I love how BIG Jeval's thinking is. He's trying to decide his future with the lizard. That's awesome. Seems a lot of us make BIG plans like this while we're young.

Posted by: SubRosa Oct 26 2023, 07:39 PM

who’s worse? The fool, or the fool who follows the fool?
Thank you Obi-Wan.

“Uh, I could pee on it, or something,” Jeval said.
I laughed at this unsolicited response from Jeval. But now that he mentions it...

It reminds me of the Lions Led By Donkeys podcast, which once https://twitter.com/lions_by/status/1590949726429798402?lang=en

I just hope an Ordinator does not see him, and arrest him, or worse.

This was a nice bonding experience for Jev and Tred. Maybe they will have an excellent adventure in the future?

Aaaand so much for the nice John Hughes movie interlude, and back to the ugliness of reality as Treads and Dad have it out over Dunmeri bigotry and Imperial greed. I know you are not big on podcasts. But you might want to check out Cool People Who Did Cool Stuff, it is all about people who did the kind of things that I feel Treads is about to.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 26 2023, 08:38 PM

Be careful, Jeval. Only Nords are allowed to pee on bridges with impunity. In fact, it’s expected of them I think.

Very nice how you manage the flirting as they are on the bridge. Dreaming together of future plans. It does seem Treads is letting her hatred of slavery sabotage her future. . . or perhaps, dictate her future.

“Late again. It’s past midnight. What do I have to do to get basic self-preservation through your skull, Treads-on-Ferns?”
- - I knew this was coming after Treads and Jeval spent so much time peeing and moondreaming. Ya know Dad’s pissed when he calls you by your full name. You bring out quite a conundrum with the Treads/Dad debate. The Dunmer keep slaves and the Empire somewhat looks the other way. On the other hand, Dad is right that it would likely be much more dangerous for the beastfolk without the Empire.

My gut tells me that Treads may be heading for involvement with a smuggle slaves to freedom group. If so, I look forward to Jeval’s reaction to that. After all, the two claim to have each others back. . . .

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Oct 29 2023, 08:40 PM

@Renee - So the stuff I've posted here (including The Last Days of the Fashion Club) were all finished well before I started. However, there were some other sites where I was posting as I went, which could get messy (especially since there were sometimes pretty big gaps between stories in Outlanders).

These days, I try to get at least most of a story finished before I start sharing it. I don't want to risk running out of steam or writing myself into a corner. I get what you mean about feeling "close" to the story, though. While I've sometimes planned stories out, I usually get distracted and end up going in a different direction. Ultimately, you can't know what the right course will be until you actually get there.

I just figured twisting fabric was a bad idea in general. But Jeval's nervous.

Yeah, the Fashion Club never really saw the real Tiphannia. And the real Tiphannia didn't see them. Now that she's here... things won't be the same.

I didn't come up with a canon Nerevarine for this, though if I did they'd probably be Khajiit or Argonian.

So the "jungle elf" epithet is because Valenwood is a tropical jungle (at least, in the old lore--I'm not sure if it still is or not). I use "elf" pretty rarely in this series, since most folks in Morrowind would just use "Mer".

Jeval is making big plans. But he's at the age where he has to start.

@SubRosa - Heh, sometimes that's the best way to get a point across.

Don't think there are usually many Ordinators in Balmora. But given the Nerevarine controversies, who can say for sure? Regardless, he wouldn't want to be caught by a guard, either.

All I'll say at this point is that real life is going to crash very heavily into Jeval's plans.

@Acadian - Thing is, slavery is an inescapable reality for Argonians like Treads, even if they are free. She's right--she can't live safely in Morrowind (or arguably anywhere near the province) because of it. So in that sense, she has no choice but to acknowledge this in her future plans.

It's hard to know exactly what the ideal outcome is. Tread is also right about the Empire benefiting from slavery. While the average citizen is against the practice, too many people also benefit from it (even if indirectly). We know that from previous eras, the factions of Tamriel are apt to fight each other constantly without someone to keep them in line. Then again, the Empire has had more than its share of civil wars (War of the Red Diamond, War of the Camoran Usurper), rebellions, and other problems (Imperial Simulacrum Crisis).

Of course when the Empire goes, things will be terrible because so many factors depend on the Empire. Will they get better eventually? Eh, that's pretty doubtful. Even without the Septims, someone's going to try and take their place.

Now, I'm speaking strictly about Tamriel as presented in these stories, not Tamriel in TES. I think the best option might have been for the Empire to adopt more of a federal system, similar to what Archduke Franz Ferdinand tried to do with the Austro-Hungarian Empire. This would give the constituent provinces more autonomy while still allowing for trade, travel, and some degree of common governance.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_of_Greater_Austria

But even this doesn't actually solve the problem of slavery. Great House Hlaalu, at least, bans slavery after the events of Morrowind (supposedly, so does Dres, though I don't find this believable). But even if Hlaalu did, I'm not sure Telvanni would particularly care. You'd basically need to exert enough Imperial will to do something about this (and being a federal system would probably make it harder).

Maybe there was a short chance for Chancellor Ocato to force the issue after the Tribunal fell. Hlaalu would have supported this. But then Red Year happened, and then Ocato got assassinated, so yeah.

Chapter 8

Jeval didn’t like working at the Lucky Lockup. But he didn’t exactly hate it, either.

It gave him a safe place. Here, he didn’t have to worry what Tiphannia thought about being restored, or what was going on with Treads and her dad. All he had do to was keep track of drinks and wipe down tables. Folks from all over came to the Lucky Lockup, so there was always good people-watching.

He hadn’t heard from anyone in the Fashion Club since Tiphannia’s restoration. All he’d done since was return the book to Jolda.

It was on a rainy Tirdas afternoon that Mr. Flowers came by for a visit. Jeval’s stomach sank to his feet as the massive Argonian sat at a table in the middle of the parlor. He looked calm, at least.

But even now, Jeval wasn’t great at reading Argonian emotions. At least for anyone other than Treads.

Okay, well he was at a semi-respectable cornerclub. Mr. Flowers was a legion vet. Didn’t like chaos or mess. Maybe he just wanted to relax.

Gulping and taking a deep breath, Jeval walked up to check on his best friend’s dad.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Flowers. Can I, uh, get you anything?”

Mr. Flowers blinked. “Oh, Jeval. I didn’t know you worked here. Yes, I’ll take some Free Estates wine if you have any. Mazte, otherwise.”

“We do have some bottles of Free Estates,” Jeval said.

He hurried over to the bar and grabbed a pewter cup (one designed for snouts instead of lips) and a bottle of the stuff and returned to the table.

“Four septims,” Jeval said, putting the bottle and cup on the table.

Mr. Flowers handed him a five-septim coin. “Keep the change,” he said.

“Thanks. Uh, sorry again I couldn’t get Treads home on time.”

Mr. Flowers waved it off. Maybe he didn’t want to talk. That was fine by Jeval.

“No, you don’t need to apologize. Heh, I know my daughter. There’s no way you can convince her to do something she doesn’t want to do.”

Jeval grinned. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“She’s a fighter. And I love that about her,” he said. “Do you have a few minutes, Jeval?”

“Uh, hold on.”

Jeval checked with his boss, who said it was fine. Then he sat down across the table from Mr. Flowers, wondering exactly what the old man wanted to talk about. Mr. Flowers had already filled the cup and was drinking from it.

“Wait,” Jeval said, the sight of Mr. Flowers drinking making him think of something Treads had told him. “Can Argonians get drunk?”

Mr. Flowers put the cup back down and smiled, the cheap wine staining his sharp white teeth. “We can. But not from the kinds of drinks you get here.”

“You like the taste of wine?”

“Not especially. But even though I have scales and a traditional Argonian name, I’m Cyrodiilic down to my bones. And when the men of Cyrodiil are scared and sad, they drink wine. Thus, when I’m scared and sad, I do the same.”

Jeval simply nodded. If he had to take a side, it’d be Treads’s. But he didn’t want to hurt Mr. Flowers, either.

“I don’t know if Treads told you, but we’d been helping Tiphannia.”

Mr. Flowers nodded. “She did. Took me a while to tease out what happened. She’s, ah, not speaking to me much these days. But you made the right call. Not fair to the girl for her to live under a curse.”

“Yeah. Just hope it didn’t mess things up for her.”

“You can’t always know the long-term consequences. If that had been me under the curse, I’d be glad.”

“No offense, but it wasn’t you.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. We’re stuck never knowing exactly what effect our actions will have. I think my daughter has trouble understanding that.”

“How do you mean?”

“She wants to make a better world. And she should. At her age, that’s a good thing.” He took another draught, nearly emptying the cup, and then refilled it.

Jeval wasn’t sure what Mr. Flowers was getting at. “What’s the problem then? You didn’t like what she said about the Empire?”

“Well, she isn’t entirely wrong. The Empire doesn’t care as much about Argonians—or Khajiit—as it should. But for all of that, it’s the best bet we have.”

Jeval forced a smile. “Sure, I’m all for the Empire,” he said.

Actually, Jeval didn’t much think about the Empire. It was just there, like the sky and the sea. And like the sky and the sea, there was no point in getting mad at it.

“You’re too young to remember the Imperial Simulacrum Crisis.” Mr. Flowers said.

“My dad was around for it. That’s why he got out of Valenwood.”

Mr. Flowers nodded. “I know some terrible things happened there. My unit was stationed up in Skyrim, in the Reach, right when the War of Bend’r Mahk broke out. All of a sudden you had these armies of half-naked Nords howling as they charged south to kill and burn everything in their path.

“As the legion, it was our sacred task to protect the Empire. Except we didn’t. Because the False Emperor Tharn wanted chaos. He wanted dissension, confusion, and terror to undo all Tamriel. The word came on down that the legion was to stand by and let the slaughter happen.”

“What happened?” Jeval asked.

“We obeyed orders, as soldiers do. At first, we thought we were simply holding position until reinforcements could arrive. No point in fighting a war if you don’t have enough troops to win. But when no reinforcements ever came, we figured something was up. My commander sent me and a few others to scout the city of Karthwasten, which the Nords had recently seized.

“It was a horror. Blood-covered streets and burned houses as far as the eye could see. People stumbling bloody through the frozen mud. I saw little children whose heads had been bashed to putty on the stones of the Karth River. These were kids, Jeval. Two, three years old. What could possibly justify that?”

Mr. Flowers’s eyes got bigger as he spoke, like he was seeing it again for the first time.

“That’s when I learned what happens when the Empire fails. People die. Not a few but thousands, and in the worst ways. If you want to envision Tamriel without the Empire, think of the scene I just told you about and imagine it across the entire continent, in every place you’ve ever called home, to everyone you’ve ever loved.

“But maybe, if we follow the law and abide under the Septims, it’ll slowly get better. That if we give people little jobs and distract them with stupid baubles, they’ll someday forget the hatreds of their fathers and grandfathers. That all the races and cultures in Tamriel will one day simply be neighbors. Maybe a little petty, maybe a little greedy. But no one that much worse than the other. No one so bad that you’d want to bash their children’s heads against the rocks.

“If all that happens, if we keep going in that direction… then Treads-on-Ferns will never have to see the things I saw.”

Mr. Flowers suddenly grabbed Jeval’s hand, gripping it so tightly it hurt. “And that’s worth any price to me.”

The gills on Mr. Flowers’s neck flattened, his eyes quivering in their scaly sockets. He was terrified. Not just of his memories, either. Jeval sensed something else, maybe all this stuff about the Nerevarine and the Tribunal barreling down on Morrowind.

And everyone knew the emperor was old.

“Could you let go of my hand?” Jeval asked.

Mr. Flowers blinked, and then let go. “Sorry,” he said, eyes downcast.

“What happened in the Reach? Were you guys able to, uh, fix things?” Jeval asked. Maybe that’s how Mr. Flowers had got those scars: doing something badass to avenge the dead.

Mr. Flowers didn’t say anything at first. Then he shook his head. “No. By that point, the Nords were too well-situated in the cities they’d seized. Our commander, a fine man named Haptallus Mantus, did take action. We found refugees—Redguards and Reachmen mostly, plus some Nords in the wrong place at the wrong time—and guided them to safety across the border when we could. Fought off a few raiding parties. That’s how I got these.” He gestured to the scars.

“That’s brave.”

“We were disobeying orders. But the Legion is the Empire. And my unit fulfilled that, in spirit if not in letter. Of course, they punished us later. That’s why I’m in Morrowind. They cut my pension, so I needed to move someplace with low cost-of-living. Plus, as a colonist I get a few tax breaks.”

“But you were the good guys!”

“A soldier understands that you have to maintain the chain of command. We all knew what we were getting into when we disobeyed.”

“Still seems messed up.” For maybe the first time in his life, Jeval regretted not paying more attention in Dimartani’s history class. “What about after the crisis ended? Did you kick the Nords out of, uh, Karthwasten?”

“No. I already said, the Nords had taken the place. It’d take another war to remove them.”

“But they stole it!”

“Yes, they did. And they claimed that the Redguards had stolen it from them, hundreds of years ago. Of course, the Nords stole it from the Reachmen before the Redguards were ever on the scene. Whatever group the Reachmen took it from probably doesn’t exist anymore.

“You know, sometimes I wish I could get my old unit together. Then team up with other units that did the right thing during the crisis. We’d fix Tamriel for good. We’d take out every separatist, every slaver, every petty king who’d kill babies to get his name into the history books. And then maybe the world won’t need us anymore.”

He let out a long sigh, the muscles in his neck relaxing.

“Have you told Treads about what happened to you?” Jeval asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m scared. I’m scared she’ll throw it back in my face the way she always does when I talk about the Empire.”

Jeval hesitated. “You don’t want me to tell her this, do you?”

Mr. Flowers blinked a few times, and then laughed, the same warm hissing laugh that Treads made. “No, no. That’d be silly. A man must tell his own stories. But I wanted to talk to someone. You’re a good listener, Jeval. That’s a rare quality, especially at your age.”

“Uh, thanks.” He’d never really thought about that before.

“I know my daughter will do what she wants. But would you look out for her when you’re together? Whatever time that is?”

“Always,” Jeval said. That was an easy answer.

“Thanks. That’s all I ask,” Mr. Flowers said.

Jeval sat there a few moments longer. Finally, he excused himself went back to work, wondering why he felt so heavy all of a sudden.

Posted by: Acadian Oct 30 2023, 12:03 AM

Ahh, we get a good glimpse inside the retired Legionnaire. And my opinion of him continues to grow. He did the right things for the right reasons. His frustrations over some of the futility of his profession and his fervent wish that warriors could somehow fight their way into obsolescence strikes close to home. But that’s the nature of the business – to see and do messy things so others (hopefully) don’t have to.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 1 2023, 03:05 AM

I cannot help but compare Jeval here and his thoughts about the Empire to similar thoughts a young farm boy from Tatooine had about another Empire. It's all so far away from here...

Mr. Flowers had a good look at what happens when good people stand by and do nothing, which is all evil needs to win. I see he eventually did stop standing by, and wears the scars for it. He has some good reasons for wanting the Empire to endure. I expect he can foresee the same happening again in the near future, and Treads being a part of it, as her revolutionary zeal is taking her in that direction.

I really do like how this has moved from the Daria story to the Jeval and Treads tale. The first was obviously a witty, biting, sarcastic comedy inspired by the TV show. But this story has a life of its own, and takes itself much more seriously, given the harsh realities it dives headfirst into.

Posted by: Renee Nov 1 2023, 06:03 PM

Sorry for questions, I just get curious. That is incredible though, Last Days was already completed before being posted here.

I can see Jeval's perspective. The Lucky Lockup seems like it's be a fun place to work, sometimes. But also kind of dangerous. And some customers are rude and annoying.

Ah, so the book they 'borrowed' DID get returned! Phew. I was worried it'd get damaged or waterlogged or something. My prediction for a Leave it to Beaver awkward outcome did not fulfill.

They have differents cups for reptilians! How clever. I wonder if "not from the kinds of drinks you get here" he's talking about hist.

Wow, he's talking about Jagar Tharn. Tapping into some early lore, there. Mister Flowers has seen the devastation which can occur if stability's not a factor. But he's also aware that there's an opposite side, as well.

I think I'd have a hard time not paying attention in Dimartini's history class. Firstly, I always got As in history, secondly, the TEACHER talks like THIS!!! 🧑‍🎓

Can't help but wonder where all of this is going, in regards to the Argonian's lecture. How does this fit into the Last Days Of The Fashion Club? Was that lecture just a distraction, a sidebar to the rest of the story? Will Jeval become a courier as he was pondering? or join the military? Guess we'll find out.

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Nov 2 2023, 05:17 PM

@Acadian - For Mr. Flowers, I drew upon various veteran accounts that I've read and heard. He knows the problems of the Empire better than most. But he's also seen what it looks like when central authority falls apart in Tamriel.

@SubRosa - Mr. Flowers can sense the instability roiling beneath the surface. The Empire never totally recovered from the Simulacrum Crisis, and even though things seem fine now, a lot of the power players and local lords know that the Empire can only do so much to hold them back. It's a little like in my comment to Acadian for the last chapter; Tamriel needs to change to survive, but most folks don't want to acknowledge that. And the ones who do don't have any clear answer.

(I still think that maybe a federalist system is the best answer, but I'm not sure if there's enough precedent for that to be even slightly viable).

Thanks. I really wanted to use this story to go into some of the heavier themes that Outlanders touched on but never quite had the opportunity to explore. Daria can dodge a lot of these inequities, but Jeval and Treads are more limited.

@Renee - No need to apologize! I love talking shop.

It could be confusing for someone who stumbles into it.

Pressure does help, I find. Knowing that there's an expectation can really trigger that inspiration. That said, I'm leaning more toward finishing or mostly finishing a story before I start posting, mostly because I'm afraid of writing myself into a corner and leaving folks disappointed.

Lucky Lockup's not a bad place. It's a traveler's tavern, so there are a lot of people coming through. But they're usually more interested in business than fighting. Actual dust-ups would be pretty rare. Customers can be rude or annoying though. That's true in any establishment, sadly.

Heh, yes, the book is back. Wouldn't want to cross Ranis Athrys...

So I took some poetic license here. In-game, Argonians are as affected by alcohol as anyone else. But the lore says they're immune to poison, which alcohol technically is. So I decided that they can't really get drunk on wine. Mr. Flowers was talking about hist sap, but probably some other unusual beverages that you could only find in Black Marsh or Argonian neighborhoods.

I was the same way in history. Easiest class for me, and I was always engaged. Honestly always had a hard time figuring out why my classmates weren't; people enjoy stories, right? And history is all about stories. I suppose they aren't always well-told or easy to relate to. Plus, I did have a few very boring history teachers who'd clearly stopped caring (but also some excellent ones passionate about the subject).

A lot of this is Jeval learning about the world around him. He's been sheltered in some ways, and he's starting to understand that. Each perspective he gets in this story is another step.

Chapter 9

With his face hidden in steam, and hot water up to his neck, Jeval tried to relax.

He’d gone to Marius’s Baths, a public bathhouse in Labor Town that was close enough to the Foreigner’s Span that it didn’t look weird for a Commercial District guy like him to be a patron. Used to be he’d take baths at the Spick and Span near Drenlyn Academy. But joining the Fashion Club meant he had to take more baths, and Marius’s was cheaper.

It was as crowded as always, mostly with day laborers and riverside stall merchants. The place was gender-segregated, like all bathhouses in Morrowind (he’d heard most other provinces had coed bathhouses, which sounded like another good reason to get out of Morrowind). The water was a little cloudier than it should be, but that was Labor Town for you.

The conversation around him turned into a vague buzz as he thought about what Mr. Flowers had said. How simple that’d be. Just take out the bad people.

Jeval wasn’t a brain. But he knew that some of those bad people also had cities and towns under their rule. How many regular folks would you have to cut through to get to the bad people? Regular folks like the ones who’d been murdered at Karthwasten?

Would it be worth it? Maybe, if it really did stop anything bad from ever happening again. But what were the chances of that?

Jeval took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and sank into the bathwater. He only heard his heartbeat and the swish of the water around him.

He wanted to be clean.

Then he exhaled, a storm of bubbles escaping from his lips. He came back up from the water, opening his eyes and taking in a big breath of damp air.

*********

The next day, he decided he was sick of waiting and would just go talk to Tiphannia and see what was going on.

He left the Lucky Lockup the moment work ended and walked north along the crowded river markets. More priests that day, telling all the Dunmer to worship the Tribunal. Weirdly, there was even a priest of the Imperial Cult telling outlanders to keep worshipping the Nine Divines or “the legally permitted regional faiths of your choice”.

But that was just background noise to Jeval. He remembered how, in weekends on the old days, Quinn would sometimes bring the rest of the Fashion Club down to his neighborhood and knock on his door, telling him there was a new coat or hat at Clanler’s that he’d just look great in.

It always was something he’d look great in. Affording it was trickier. But it’s not like the Fashion Club always bought stuff on their visits to the market. Not even Satheri had that kind of money. It was just window-shopping, and he was cool with that.

Mostly, he liked that Quinn would take the trip down to the poorer, dirtier part of the Commercial District to include him. And they went to Labor Town to pick up Treads, too, sometimes. Not that they hung around Labor Town; not much window-shopping there. Still, everyone had a place in the club.

Quinn hadn’t visited in a long time. Work kept pulling them farther apart.

Jeval soon reached the Blumius house, just a block away from the fancy shops in St. Roris Square. Now he had to figure out how to get in touch with Tiphannia. He probably wasn’t real popular in the Blumius house after the whole restoration thing.

But he needed to know how Tiphannia felt about it.

“Jeval?” drawled her familiar voice.

She was just coming in from St. Roris Square, a basket full of ash yams on her arm. What’s more, she was dressed casual, in a simple beige wool dress with an old brown cloak made of the same. It fit well, and her lustrous black hair was brushed, so she still looked at the top of her game.

But different.

“Hey! Can we talk?”

Tiphannia looked over at her house, and then motioned for him to come to her. That was new. He’d never seen Tiphannia take charge like that.

Jeval breathed in, breathed out, and walked toward her. Time to find out if he’d made her life better or worse.

“Are you mad at me?” he blurted out when he got close enough.

Tiphannia didn’t say anything. For a second, he wondered if the curse had come back.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

Somehow, that felt worse than a “yes”.

“Uh, is your dad giving you trouble?”

She made a face. It was the first he’d ever seen her annoyed at something other than poor fashion choices. “Not… exactly. He’s saying a lot. He wants me… to get a job.”

Work had never been in the cards for her before.

“I don’t mind,” she continued. “But even though I understand things better… it’s hard. Like my brain gets it… but my hands don’t. I get confused. And I do want a job. But for me… not for him.”

“Makes sense,” Jeval said.

“I sold… a bunch of my old dresses. The nice ones.”

Wait, what? Tiphannia had been more obsessed with her clothes than anyone else in the club!

“Even the cyan one?” he asked.

“Yeah. But I don’t think… I got enough money for it. Quinn always used to handle that kind of… thing.”

“Okay. Well, bring her in. Or maybe I can help! I can’t get a deal as good as her, but I can do some haggling.”

He was better than Satheri, and about as good as Treads.

“I sold it all… already. I’m going back to Cathnoquey.”

“Whoa. That’s pretty far.”

“I know. I’ll have to like… save up for a while. But I can’t stay here.”

The Fashion Club was finished, Jeval realized. Satheri would be gone in less than a month. Tiphannia was pissed and planning to leave. He and Treads weren’t going to stick around either.

Dammit. He knew they were being pushed apart, but why so fast? Why not have a few more years where they saved up money as friends, hanging out and killing time?

“Did you talk to Quinn?” Jeval asked.

Tiphannia’s eyebrows went vertical. “Didn’t you hear what I… said? I don’t want to talk to her after all this.”

“Whoa, Tiphannia: this is my fault. Not hers.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “That’s not what I mean! It’s like… all this time she was making all the decisions. She never, like… asked me.”

“Yeah, but you were cursed. Or attribute damaged. Whatever they called it.”

“Why did you all… want me around? Like I was just some dumb girl you could all like… laugh at?”

Jeval raised his hands. “Wait! We all like you, Tiphannia. I mean, you were strange. But we all were. The Fashion Club was basically the Weirdo Club. But who cares? It worked.”

“I do like Satheri. But Quinn used me to… look good. Treads was like… really mean. I remember all those things she said about me. And you went along…”

[censored], Jeval thought to himself. Because yeah, Treads could be a little mean. He hadn’t seen the harm. It’s not like Tiphannia got any of it. Except she had, sort of.

“Look, I’ll talk with Treads. She likes messing with people sometimes. As for Quinn, don’t you remember that big fashion show last year? You had that, uh, Keptu-quey getup for your dress. That was you. And she loved it!”

“She probably… loved that someone in the Fashion Club had, like… won. I got into a big fight with her two days ago. She got all like… upset. Saying she’d tried to be nice to everyone.”

“Tiphannia, she was nice. But no one’s perfect!”

“You’re just saying that… because you still have a crush on her. Which is… pathetic. It’s been years. It’s not going to happen.”

Why did he have to deal with this crap? He’d gotten Tiphannia restored! She should be happy!

“Forget this!” he said. “I don’t know what you expect. Yeah, okay, I have a thing for her. But I’m not wrong! Quinn made a place for us. What do you think would’ve happened to you without her, huh? You’d just be some dumb loser the entire school looked down on. But Quinn gave you a chance. Same as she gave all of us. Yeah, she’s not perfect, but so what? None of us are.”

Tiphannia took a step forward. Short though she was, she was as tall as him, which he hated. She leaned in.

“[censored] you,” she said, and then walked back to her house.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 2 2023, 11:06 PM

Jeval is starting to sound like Anakin Skywalker. Not the one from the movies, but the actually well-portrayed one we got from the Clone Wars TV show. Just take out the bad people. How many other people do you have to kill in the process? Who decides how many of them justifies it? Shouldn't someone just do it unilaterally, because it is the right thing to do, and let democracy and ethics sort themselves out afterward? Doesn't the galaxy need someone to just do what is right to restore order?

I was going to say something last time, but decided against it because I felt like I was being too soap-boxy. So I might as well get my Thomas Paine out now then. As much as I can empathize with Mr. Flowers and his admittedly horrific experience in the Simulacrum War, I cannot find much empathy for the Empire itself, or in the justification for its existence.

Now granted the reason is because of real world empires, and how they behave, which I am admittedly projecting onto the game world here. In reality empires exist for one reason. For the conquering state to extract wealth from the conquered. That can be natural resources, or it can even be people, either in the form of slaves, or even in the form of soldiers.

For example, the British built railroads in their colonies. But those were not made for the convenience of the people living there. They were made to take the wealth extracted from the interior and send it to the coast, where it could be loaded on ships and sent to Britain. At the beginning of WW2 the British Empire was the largest single state in the world, with a bit over half a billion people. Her military was filled with colonial troops from places like India, Nepal, Africa, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, etc... Especially India. That wealth, and that manpower, made Great Britain the most powerful nation on the planet in 1939.

I think Bethesda wants us to believe that the Cyrodiilic Empire, especially that of the last of the Septims, was a kinder, gentler entity that any real world empires. But then again, they have the East Empire Trading Company in Morrowind. It has a monopoly on just about every resource unique or notable to the province, like ebony, glass, etc... Clearly it is at least inspired by the RL British and Dutch East India Companies. These again, existed solely to extract wealth from far flung places and bring it back to the centers of their empires.

But back to Mr. Flowers in particular, I am reminded that Tamriel was not always ruled by an Empire. The reason it is now is because Tiber Septim conquered all the other provinces. He did those same sorts of war crimes that Mr. Flowers witnessed in the War of the Simulacrum. The Empire would not exist without it. Nor could Tiber Septim have done it without foot soldiers like Mr. Flowers himself, or at least his analogues from that period. If I recall correctly after the Battle of Sancre Tor Tiber Septim sold all the Breton and Nord prisoners he had taken into slavery. Then when he got the Numidium he was going to use it to murder the royal families of all the neutral states in Tamriel. That was why Zurin Arctus betrayed him, in order to stop it.

So the Empire's hands are definitely not clean, and never have been. Even barring how they turn a blind eye to slavery in Morrowind because leaving that power structure in place is something they ultimately benefit from as well.

The flip side of this coin however, is that the current Empire does provide stability. IRL, the decolonization that took place after WW2 provides a clear example of that, especially in India. Most of the time the old empires like Britain deliberately kept the native population out of any form of self-rulership during their periods of empire. Then when they withdrew they just dropped it all in the laps of people who had absolutely no preparation for taking over and running a modern, industrial society. That is not because those people were infantile, or stupid. They were deliberately prevented from learning these skills by their colonial masters. Then they were just abandoned. The end result is almost always chaos and civil war, like with the Partition of India, which the British thoroughly cocked up.

But the flip side of the flip side, is that the alternative is maintaining the status quo. That just retains the same corrupt, one-sided, predatory systems of power that have always been oppressing people. Real change does not take place nicely and neatly. It's messy, and ugly, and often people completely undeserving pay terrible prices. It is why the United States exist. Why the 40 hour work week exists. Why slavery was ended (well, mostly). Etc...

We have the advantage of being able to see somewhat into Tamriel's future. So we know the cataclysm coming to Morrowind in the near future, and across the rest of the continent to one extent or another. This Empire is not going to transition slowly and methodically to de-colonization. It is going to be here one day, gone the next. In some regards it can indeed make one pine for the good old days of the Empire. OTOH, those days were really not all that good.

So what I am I saying? I don't know. I think that reality is messy and ugly. There aren't any shining knights and perfect heroes. Stability often comes at a price that is just a formalized form of brutality and oppression. While change is a democratized form of the same, since then everyone can do war crimes, not just the ancien regime that used to be in power. None of it is wonderful. I suppose the best we can try to do is make that change meaningful, so that it was somehow worth the suffering it required to come about.

For example, World War 1 and 2 did eventually lead to the European Union, which I do think is a vast improvement over the warring states period that existed in Europe for centuries before it. Now it is inconceivable for France to go to war with Germany. It is just heart-breaking that it took so much horror to get there.

Ok, off my soap-box now, I promise.

So Jevvie is out on the streets, and all the priests are saying "Totally go on worshiping the traditional way" and "Nothing to see here." We are clearly in the final days of the Tribunal Temple.

Tiphanna is dressed in.. brown? beige? An old cloak? Whoa. Things have changed a lot!

So Tiphanna is going back to Cathnoquey. I can certainly see why she would want to get away from her father. While she seems better, she does not seem entirely right as well. She still has these... pauses where she seems to have to stop to gather her thoughts. Maybe she is just choosing her words with care, because she does not want to say the wrong thing. Or maybe she is still recovering from the curse, and having to search to find the words at all. But it is still an improvement.

Well that could have gone better. But then again, as I said when I was back on my soapbox, change can be really ugly and messy. I can certainly see why Tiphanna would feel hurt about everything and lash out. Treads even warned about this. One can only hope that she can make a better future for herself in Cathnoquey.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 3 2023, 12:09 AM

Nothing like a hot bath to help one think and try to sort out the world’s problems. A far cry from Jeval’s concerns back in the heyday of the Fashion Club where his biggest concerns were would that new hat look as great on him as Quinn promised and how to pay for it.

Probably a good idea to find out directly if Tiphannia is mad at him.

Well. . . that could have gone better. Though I sort of understand Tiphannia being upset, Jeval has the right of it, said the right things and it is too bad Tippie’s not listening. Kind of a mess all right, but not your fault Jeval. And sadly, it does seem the Fashion Club is in its last days. . . .

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Nov 5 2023, 05:28 PM

@SubRosa - Jeval's wondering all that, especially in regard to Mr. Flowers. Since there's no way Mr. Flowers can do what he wants--however well-intentioned--without a lot of collateral damage.

The soapbox is fine here because The Last Days of the Fashion Club is the big "political" story. I'm not necessarily trying to provide answers--I'm not smart enough for that. But I am trying to point to some of the questions I think we should all be asking.

Since you're right: empires are extractive institutions and the Septim Empire is no exception.

I think the nature of the Empire gets a little blurred in some of the later games. Oblivion has you explicitly defending the Empire from a much darker threat. Skyrim, IMO, kind of fumbled in its attempt to showcase the pros and cons. I'll admit that I always side with the Empire in Skyrim, both because the Stormcloaks rub me the wrong way, and because I get annoyed at how hard the game seems to be trying so very hard to make me like the Stormcloaks.

But the problems of the Empire are pretty clear in Morrowind if you pay attention. While the Dunmer leaders aren't necessarily sympathetic, the Empire is still looting the province for its own benefit (and, of course, benefiting from slavery).

The Septim Empire probably is a kinder gentler empire than most of the real world ones... but it's still an empire with everything that entails. These are all things I touched on in Outlanders, but Jeval and Treads have to grapple with it in a way that Daria never quite has to worry about.

It's important to note that Tiber Septim wasn't Tamriel's first power-mad conqueror. He was just the most successful. And like all successful conquerors, he was incredibly brutal, as you said.

You pretty much got the question I was going for here: what price stability? And is stability worth tolerating injustice? For someone like Mr. Flowers, who's older and devoted to his family, he'll take the stability. Treads (and his son) come first. But he's also a bit naive about just how much danger his kids are in living in a place like Morrowind, all because of the Empire's greed and apathy. The stability may not help him as much as he thinks.

But he's also seen the alternative. And that's not something he'll ever countenance or support. Even if something better does come from the Empire's dissolution, it'll be a long and bloody march. He's not willing to sacrifice Treads for the possibility of a better future.

Maybe after all the chaos, you'll end up with an EU, like our own Europe did. But if the Cold War had gone nuclear (and it once came close due to a computer glitch of all things), it'd look a lot different. How much success is dumb luck? It's hard to know.

Tamriel's actually a rather poignant case, since we do get to see into its future, and things aren't great. The Mede Empire certainly isn't better than the Septim Empire (and is probably worse). The Aldmeri Dominion is definitely worse. An-Xileel doesn't sound great. Morrowind might eventually become better, but I have to admit I'm skeptical they'd stay abolitionist once Hlaalu and the Empire are gone (though they might use fewer slaves due to no longer relying on cash crops for their economy, which might make smaller farms more practical as seen in Redoran territory). Maybe independent Hammerfell is nicer; don't think we have any solid data on the place as of yet.

And yes, we're in the final days of the Tribunal. The Fashion Club isn't the only thing passing into history.

@Acadian - Yeah, Jeval's having to face this all at once. It's a lot for a guy to deal with, and that calls for a bath.

It's a tough situation with Tiphannia. Jeval did the right thing. The Fashion Club watched out for Tiphannia, but they did kind of treat her like a mascot sometimes. Emotionally, it's very complicated for her.

Chapter 10

Jeval went over to Quinn’s house after the thing with Tiphannia. She’d just gotten home from the Portollos, and even though she’d done her best to look perfect, he could tell something was bothering her.

But she said she needed to be alone.

He went home. On the way, he passed a flower-seller and bought a fire petal. It seemed kind of silly, now. But that was the last bit of fashion advice that Quinn had given him. Once he got it, he pinned it on his shirt.

It did look good.

Jeval spent Fredas working at the Lucky Lockup and helping his mom with chores. Dad had already gone on a long courier run to Ald Velothi; Jeval had been too busy with the recent drama to ask about going, and Ald Velothi was pretty far. But he’d go for sure next time.

Not like he had much reason to stick around in Balmora.

A cold drizzle hit the city just after sundown on Fredas and turned into steady rain by Loredas morning. The rain drummed on the adobe rooftops and splashed down onto the Commercial District’s flagstones. The shadows in the small rooms of Jeval’s house seemed to get bigger and darker as the morning hours wore on. Seleynia and mom argued about whether to use more candles.

If Jeval stuck around any longer, he’d get drawn in. Better to try his luck out there than inside.

He threw on his dad’s spare netch leather cloak and snuck out of the house. Balmora was all about business and didn’t normally let rain get in the way. But the street was quiet that day. A few stall merchants called out their wares, though their hearts weren’t in it. Workers and walkers moved quickly, like they didn’t want to be seen.

Hardly anyone was a Dunmer. Must have something to do with that religious trouble. It made him think of the riot last year, which had started as protests that had slowly simmered until they’d boiled over. Hopefully, the folks in charge were paying more attention this time.

They probably weren’t.

Jeval decided to take a chance and see if Treads was off work. Once at her home, he knocked a few times. Lucky for him, Treads answered.

“Oh, hey!” she said.

“Hey. You off today?”

“I wasn’t, but they gave my shift to Occitus. I was glad they did; it’s too nice a day to work there. I was going to go over and see what you were up to.”

“Oh, neat! Hey, I got the fire petal, like Quinn said. Think it works?”

“Yeah, has that vibe. Dashing without being rakish.”

“Sweet, that’s what I wanted to hear. Anyplace you want to go?”

Treads thought about it a bit. “You ever been to the Spiked Scrib?”

Jeval tried to remember if he’d heard that name before. “Don’t think so.”

“It’s a dinky little cornerclub in the middle of Labor Town. Nothing special, but I like the place. Damp-with-Dew introduced me to it.”

“Sounds good to me. You’re hanging out with him a lot?”

“Damp-with-Dew’s okay, though he can be a pain sometimes. I like his girlfriend, Acclesia, a lot more. If we’re lucky, they’ll both be there. If it’s just Damp-with-Dew… well, he’s all right. Just don’t let him get under your skin.”

“Lead the way.”

Treads said a quick goodbye to her family and then stepped out. She sighed in delight as the rain poured down on her scales, the brilliant greens as bright as gemstones.

They tramped through the puddles as the rain crashed down around them, the paved streets by the river soon giving way to mud.

“I decided I’m not going to go out at night anymore,” Treads said.

“Oh yeah?” Jeval wondered if her dad had told her what he’d told him.

“I’m not wrong. Argonians are never going to be safe here, day or night. But it scares my dad, and he’s already dealing with a lot. So, I’ll stick to the day to make things easier for him. Plus, a few beastfolk have disappeared recently.”

“For real? What happened?”

Treads blinked slowly, which she always did when Jeval missed the point about something. “They disappeared. No one knows. Hopefully they just left town in a hurry but… I have to be careful.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Let’s talk about something else. There’s nothing we can do about that right now.”

“Sure. Uh, I talked to Tiphannia. Didn’t go too well.”

Jeval told her the story and she listened. Hearing it out of his own mouth, Jeval wished he hadn’t lost his temper at Tiphannia. Though he didn’t think he’d been totally wrong.

“It’s got to be hard for her. And I didn’t make things easy for her,” Treads said.

“Oh?” Jeval had left out the part about Tiphannia being pissed at Treads. Maybe he shouldn’t have, but he didn’t want Treads to get mad at Tiphannia and make things worse.

“I made fun of her a lot, because, well… I’m kind of mean. Shouldn’t have done that.”

“Things were fine until I figured out Tiphannia was cursed.”

“Would you do it differently, if you knew?” Treads asked.

Jeval thought about it a bit. “No.”

“Exactly. You couldn’t leave her cursed.”

“Maybe you’re right. Should I say sorry to Tiphannia?”

Treads sighed and shook her head. “No. Just leave her alone for now. Quinn visited me, yesterday.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t say much. Think she wanted to pretend things were normal, so we just poked around the markets for a while. Sorry I didn’t invite you, but we weren’t out for long.”

“It’s cool, I was working yesterday anyway. You know, even after all this, I’m still kind of amazed anyone like Quinn exists. She’s, uh, great.”

But it felt weird to say, now. Not because he didn’t believe it. Maybe because things just didn’t feel the same anymore.

“No offense, Jeval…” Treads said.

Treads knew that Jeval knew nothing would ever happen between him and Quinn, so she almost never brought it up. He braced himself anyway.

“… but I think you’re over Quinn,” she finished.

Jeval did a double-take. “Huh?” He hadn’t expected that.

“You’re not in love with her anymore. But you’re so used to thinking that you are that you haven’t realized you aren't. Think about it. You used to say you’d always be near her, and now you’re making plans to ditch Morrowind.”

“Uh, well, Quinn could go with us to Hammerfell,” he said. Sure, that’d be a little weird. But it’d work.

Right?

“She won’t. What’s more, you don’t want her to. And why should you? You’re a free agent, Jeval! Quinn was special. She made a huge difference in our lives. But our lives have changed.”

No. No way. Quinn was the one true thing for him all those years at Drenlyn. Well, that and being friends with Treads-on-Ferns.

“I can’t get over someone that easy,” he said. “I know it won’t happen. But that’s just how I am.”

“If you say so, Jeval.”

They passed by another one of those weird Dunmer preachers. This guy was a mess: he was shirtless, and his gray skin was pulled tight against his ribs. Oozing sores covered his back and right side, and black veins stood out in his red eyes.

“You shall hear Lord Dagoth’s sweetness in your dreams, and the dreams will become flesh!”

Then the preacher opened his toothless mouth wide and let out a long keening sound. It lasted until his voice gave out, but he started again a few seconds later, the pitch of the second almost identical to the first.

Treads glared at the preacher but said nothing.

Not far past the preacher, Treads stopped at a narrow door set into a big and crumbling adobe building that ran half a block. The place looked like it was sinking into the ground. Burn marks stained the walls.

Jeval frowned. He wasn’t afraid of dirt the way Quinn was, but this place still looked kind of sketchy. But Treads had already opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open with one hand.

Warm air washed over Jeval’s cold and wet body the moment he entered. Candle lights bobbed in the darkness, and a fire pit at the far end burned red and sooty. As his eyes adjusted, he made out more details: rushes on the ground, faded tapestries on the walls, and a long bar behind. Maybe a dozen people were inside, including the publican.

“Hey, Treads-on-Ferns!” called a voice.

Jeval followed the sound to a low table, where two Argonians sat, a big pot of steaming tea on the middle of the table. The speaker was the taller of the two, and he sported two horns on his head: one whole, the other broken. He must be Damp-with-Dew.

“Hey, everyone,” Treads greeted. “Brought my best friend along. You met him last week.”

“Yeah, yeah. Uh, what’s your name again?” Damp asked.

“Jeval. You’re Damp-with-Dew and you’re Acclesia?”

“You got it,” the second Argonian said. She was about Treads’s size. “Yeah, I know. I’m the one with the lame Imperial name.”

Jeval shrugged. “I kinda get that. My dad took on a fake surname when he first moved to Cyrodiil in the ‘90s. Before I was born.”

When Jeval was a kid in Cyrodiil, dad always introduced the family as the Whitethorns. But it had probably been a year since any of them had used that. Didn’t seem to matter so much out here.

“The things we do to fit in,” Acclesia sighed. “Not like it ever makes a difference.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Damp said.

Jeval did. There was already a big pot of tea on the table. Since they were seated close to the bar, Acclesia stood up and asked the publican for a few more cups, which he provided. A moment later, Jeval had his drink. He put the earthen cup to his lips and took a sip: it was bitter, earthy, and hot. Perfect for a morning like this.

“How did you two and Treads meet?”

“Don’t call her that,” Damp warned.

Jeval froze. “Huh?”

Treads snorted at Damp. “Take it easy, Jeval’s known me longer than you have.” She turned to Jeval. “It turns out that in Black Marsh, it’s rude to use the first word of someone’s name unless you know them well. Remember that for Damp-with-Dew. Unless you guys become good friends or something.”

“Saying the entire name denotes respect,” Damp-with-Dew said, slowly.

“It’s cool, I’ll remember,” Jeval said. “Thanks. So yeah, how did you meet Treads-on-Ferns?”

“Treads and I work in the same warehouse,” Acclesia said. “We’re the only Argonians there. Later I introduced her to my boyfriend here.”

Looked like Acclesia knew Treads well enough to go by first-word basis.

Damp-with-Dew spoke up. “Brought her into our circle of two. Now we meet in shady cornerclubs, drink tea, and plot how to shake the world down to its foundations.”

Things started to fit together in Jeval’s head. This was why Treads had gotten more aggressive lately. She’d been hanging out with these two.

“Mostly,” Treads said, “we drink tea and complain about our jobs. Bringing the world down is a distant third priority.”

“In case you’re wondering, Jeval, I work as a shellbreaker,” Damp-with-Dew explained.

“Cool. I clean tables, but I might be a courier like my dad pretty soon.”

The four of them got to chatting. Well, three of them. Jeval didn’t talk as much. It’s not that they were snubbing him. More that they already knew each other. But he joined in, made some jokes, laughed along with theirs.

It sure beat hiding in his house and mourning the Fashion Club.

After a few hours, the conversation turned to the whole weirdness with the Nerevarine.

“I don’t give a damn about Dunmer theology,” Damp-with-Dew said. “But I do like that this is scaring them. Cults like the Nerevarine’s and Dagoth’s are more examples of how the whole system’s falling apart, from here to Summerset.”

“What happens when it falls apart?” Jeval asked, thinking about what Mr. Flowers had said.

“Justice happens. We Argonians get our payback.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” Acclesia added.

Jeval just nodded, not sure what to say. But, apparently, not saying something still constituted saying something.

“I can read Mer expressions, Jeval,” Damp-with-Dew said. “So I can see that you aren’t too sure. Did Treads-on-Ferns ever tell you what I used to do?”

“No.”

“Former Imperial Navy. Spent a couple years as a hand on the TEM Southern Sun, a cutter hunting pirates off the coast of Black Marsh.”

Tension crept along Jeval’s shoulders and up his neck. He remembered what Treads had said to her dad about the Empire’s ships ignoring slavers. He was about to hear the truth firsthand.

And it was going to be horrible.

“There we were, the protectors of justice! The first line of defense against Akavir! We escorted merchantmen, hunted pirates, did all the stuff the navy’s supposed to do. Except stop slavers.”

Damp-with-Dew leaned in over the table. His hands shook slightly.

“First time I saw it, I didn’t believe it. We had the ship in our sights. We heard it. We heard the wails and screams of people like me and Treads-on-Ferns begging for help. But Captain Tovanius didn’t do [censored]! She’d already been paid off, you see. What does she care about some lizard people, right? Just wanted more money to add to the fat pension she’ll already get.”

Damp-with-Dew gave a rattling sigh. He slammed his fist down on the table, and it shook from the impact.

“Who paid her off?”

“Great House Dres,” Acclesia interjected. “Or at least somebody who works for them.”

“I wasn’t going to take this,” Damp-with-Dew continued. “I told her to her face that we had a duty to protect these people. You know what she did? She had me flogged! My own mates put me down and scourged the scales off my back! But I didn’t give up. When we docked at Archon, I went to the authorities. Thought I’d put my captain in prison. They listened, took some notes. What do you think happened after that?”

Jeval tasted bile. He looked down at the table. “Nothing,” he guessed.

“Worse. The next night, they dragged me to a cell where a couple of big Nords told me that I should stop lying about the honorable Captain Tovanius, and that a sailor with a disciplinary record like me lacked credibility. Also that Black Marsh is a big place where it’s real easy to get lost and never be seen again.

“Then they shipped me to Nivalis, a frozen little island town in northeast Morrowind, surrounded by cold seas and slave country. I scrubbed hulls there until my commission ended a year ago. Not easy for someone like me to move around Morrowind, and I only got to Balmora before my money ran out.”

Damp-with-Dew started taking deep, gulping breaths. Acclesia put her hands on his shoulders, gently stroking them.

“You’re okay, you’re with us,” she said.

“Yeah, except we’re not safe here. Anyway, this whole Nerevarine thing is the first step,” Damp-with-Dew said.

“What happens after?” Jeval asked.

“Who can say for sure? But at least we’ll be able to do something. The Dunmer are soft and lazy. We’ll burn their cities and enslave them, so they know what it’s like.”

“We don’t need slaves!” Treads said. “We just need to get to the point where we can protect ourselves and bring the people who’ve hurt us to justice.”

Damp-with-Dew chuckled. “I dunno. Dunmer slaves sound pretty fun. We can watch them rot to death in Black Marsh. Maybe throw some Imperials in the camps, too. I bet they’d sell each other out to be foremen. Imperials just can’t help doing that.”

Jeval imagined that happening to Satheri or Quinn and felt sick.

“You don’t need to worry, Jeval. The Bosmer never did anything to us,” Damp-with-Dew said, his voice suddenly tired. “The only ones who’ll lose from the Empire falling are the Imperials, the Dunmer, and maybe some Orcs. You Bosmer can probably team up with the Altmer again.”

Jeval shook his head. “Uh, no. My dad said the Altmer did bad things to us, before the Empire.”

Damp-with-Dew blinked. “Sounds to me like Empire propaganda to make the Altmer look bad.”

“No, it’s not. His grandpa—my great-grandpa—lived through it! Things like massacres, work camps. They put him in one until he escaped into the jungle. Didn’t come out until, well… a while later.”

He’d come out when the Empire showed up. But Jeval didn’t say it. He wasn’t stupid enough to defend the Empire in front of someone who’d suffered so much from it. If the Altmer under the Dominion had done terrible things in Valenwood, the Empire had done—or at least permitted—terrible things in Black Marsh and Morrowind, and probably other places as well.

“I don’t have anything against regular Altmer,” Jeval continued, mentally checking himself to see if that was true. “Just to be clear.”

“We’re not Imperials, Jeval. You don’t need to pretend to be tolerant here,” Damp-with-Dew said.

“I’m not pretending!” he protested.

Damp-with-Dew made a noncommittal shrug. “Well, there will be a lot more fighting when the Empire falls apart, so get ready. Imperials set it up that way, so we’d all be too afraid of each other to break away. But that’s how it is. Old-timers call Tamriel ‘the Arena’, because that’s what it’s been for all of history. They’re not wrong.

“The way I see it, if the Empire’s gone, at least we can protect our own kind. So what if there’s violence? Violence is already happening. But I’d rather die for Argonians than for Imperials or Dunmer. You probably feel the same way about Bosmer.”

Jeval barely even knew any Bosmer outside of his own family and a few of his dad’s friends. He liked who he liked, and that’d always been enough for him.

Though it might be nice to not have to literally look up to everyone around him for once.

“Speaking of protecting our own kind,” Acclesia said, looking at Treads, “old Rolfjorn’s wife isn’t going to last much longer. I’m setting up a fund with some of the other warehouse workers so he can cover funeral expenses.”

She took out a small purse and opened it up, jingling its contents.

“Poor guy. Yeah, I’ll pitch in,” Treads said, putting in a ten-septim piece.

“I see someone’s changing the subject. But I’ll do it. For you,” Damp-with-Dew agreed, handing in some coin.

“I’ll help,” Jeval said, and reached into his pocket to give in a little more than was smart. But he didn’t care.

The conversation shifted to other things. Jeval realized that he’d been sitting in a cornerclub for a good long while and hadn’t yet had any booze.

He needed to fix that.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 5 2023, 09:39 PM

We now have a pretty good idea where Treads is getting her militant activism from. So it seems Damp wants to destroy the empire and replace it with equally cruel Argonian rule. I’m sure that’ll work out well. It’s clear that Jeval is the wisest of the bunch.

Buffy adventures in the Second Era where the Ebonhart Pact, Daggerfall Covenant and Aldmeri Dominion are all trying to slaughter each other and destroy the Empire at the same time. It is not pretty. ‘Those who fail to learn the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them.’

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 6 2023, 01:55 AM

Your remark reminds me that the Tribunal is passing from being news to being history...

So Jevvie is dashing without being too dashing. That sounds good. Time for some Scrib.

So Damp can get under your skin? That sounds ominous.

I like the contrast here of Jeval and most others finding that the rain makes it a bleak day to keep outdoor excursions to a minimum. While for Treads, the rain makes for it being a great day to be out and about!

I have keenly noticed that Quinn is fading fast into the periphery now, along with Satheri and Tiphanna. This is clearly the Jev and Tred show.

Oh boy, another Sleeper has awoken I see. He has a real Invasion of the Body Snatchers feel with that parting howl.

I appreciated Acclesia and Jeval bonding over the desire of immigrants to fit in where they go. That was one of the things I really liked about the Supergirl TV show. They emphasized the fact that she was an immigrant, and had that same need to fit in and be accepted, even though she knew she would always be an alien in more than one way (metaphorically and literally). Given that she is a superhero with uber powers, it was really good storytelling, because it showed that she still had vulnerabilities, aside from kryptonite of course.

Nice world-building with the usage of Argonian names.

So Damp-With-Dew stands as the flip side of Mr. Fern's military experience. He's not only seen, but been part of the Empire's dark side.

And it looks like Damp is looking forward to that democratization of violence that's on the horizon. Oh boy. I expect that Treads is going to go full on with him, at least at first. Given what I recall from the future Treads episode in the previous story, she won't stay all in with them. At least not after the Argonian invasion of Morrowind. It looks like Jeval is having no part of it. Which is probably for the best.

Posted by: Renee Nov 8 2023, 08:38 PM

Ah, hist sap, thought so. That's an interesting conclusion as well: alcohol is a poison, and technically Argonians are immune to poisons.

Yeah, we were both good at History.

Eeesh, public bathing! I remember the Morgendorffers had their own bath in their own house, but even they had to share bathwater. Such things are a luxury all around. I bet the Sloans (and others who are better-off) have their own private facillities.

But I can imagine bathing would be important for Jeval. The kid wants to look good, makes sense he'd want to smell good and not walk around with his skin all sticky from old perspiration, as well.

Ah, there she is. I'm noticing how Quinn really isn't discussed too much in this story so far! Miss her!

And here is Tiphannia. She's motioning him to come closer. Already, that alone seems different in her behavior.

Yes, i can see that. The Fashion Club as some sort of club for weirdos. But yikes. Bad vibes between these two. Dang. Didn't see any of this coming! - But that is also what I was wondering as well, a couple of chapters ago. Everyone was concerned about poor Tiph, but nobody seemed to ask her about it. BUT, maybe this was because they thought they couldn't ask her. Like she was too demented to comprehend any possible queries.

Anyway, that was a downer episode. Let's see what happens in Chapter 10.

Hmm, you know.... DID they make fun of Tiphannia? They actually did? I don't remember this! Maybe this didn't get written up in Outlanders, though. Or maybe my memory's just that bad.



Run!!! Run for your lives! Or throw a Spell of Holy Flames if you're Joan of Arkay!

Whoa my lord. Can't just call her "Treads". Yikes. A lot of racism (speciesism, I guess) in this episode. But all of this stuff actually does happen for sure. This is all the stuff which happens between the end of the Third Era and into the time of Skyrim.

This meeting is pretty awkward for poor Jeval, right? Like these lizards are telling him "get ready" when the Empire falls apart. Meanwhile, all he wants to do is fall in love, have his clubbie friends still band together like in the old days, and figure out his future. Meanwhile, everything in his social life is falling apart. But the conversation they're having certainly does portray many conversations around tea and coffee which have happened all over our world, as revolutions begin to brew.



... and Arena, the first game, was only meant to be a gladitorial combat game at first, not a broader RPG with a gigantic gameworld! Just imagine if the two main early devs (Todd was their eventual tester!) stuck to their original plans!

Off-topic, but I read in some interview that when Vijay Lakshman (pretty sure it was Vijay) coined the term 'Elder Scrolls' he had no idea what the heck this actually meant at the time. Because so much of the lore hadn't been written yet.

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Nov 9 2023, 04:54 PM

@Acadian - It's worth pointing out that Treads did push back against some of Damp-with-Dew's statements (like enslaving the Dunmer). Plus, when walking with Jeval, she indicates that she's closer to Acclesia than Damp-with-Dew. Treads is more radical than Jeval in regards to the Empire, since she knows the Empire isn't going to help the Argonians without major pressure.

@SubRosa - I think there was a TR doc which described Argonian literature, and said how words that implied wetness usually carried an inherent positive connotation. Based on this and the nature of Black Marsh, it made sense for Argonians to enjoy rain (especially in a place as dusty as Balmora).

This is very much about Jeval and Treads. And yes, we do have a sleeper here. Jeval doesn't know what they're all about, but he knows enough to keep his distance.

Damp-with-Dew is indeed intended as a contrast. And for all of his less pleasant aspects, he is more correct about the Empire than Mr. Flowers is. The Empire simply benefits from slavery too much, and cares about Argonians/Khajiit too little, to make serious efforts to stop it. Mr. Flowers is a better person than Damp-with-Dew, but Damp-with-Dew is closer to the truth.

@Renee - It's funny; we have this perception of the Middle Ages being a low point in hygiene. But more recent scholarship actually says medieval folks were fairly clean; obviously, setting up a bath required a lot of effort so they wouldn't do it every day. But they did bathe as much as their resources allowed, and they had bath houses. Things didn't actually get dirty until the Renaissance. I've heard that this was partly because of the Black Death; people avoided bath houses during the plague, since it was easy to get sick in one. After that, Europe settled in for a long period of bad hygiene.

Yeah, the more I learn, the more I think I'd actually rather live in the Middle Ages than the Renaissance/Reformation. Crazy times, then.

Anyway: I figured that bathhouses would be pretty common in Tamriel. The Romans were big on baths. Medieval people liked baths. So there you have it.

The only scenes showing that Tiphannia might not have been treated well were ones were Treads made the occasional snide comment. The Fashion Club did care about Tiphannia. But her perspective's changed so much that she just can't see it the same way she used to. The Tiphannia of the old days feels like an entirely different person, and the current Tiphannia can't help feeling a bit exploited.

Yeah, the conversation in the Spiked Scrib is a wake-up for Jeval. Things aren't going well, and he needs to find out where he stands. But like most folks, he only wants to live his own quiet life.

Heh, it's funny how ad hoc TES's development was. Making things up as they went along. I'm 99% sure that the name "Morrowind" came from a novel called The Elf Queen of Shannara, which featured elves living on a volcanic island called Morrowindl (they're more like standard fantasy elves than Dunmer, however). Given that this was Arena, no one in Bethesda much cared about lore, and probably just thought the name sounded cool, took off the "L", and slapped it on the map. Didn't get fleshed out until later. Nowadays, Morrowind is far better known than the novel where it probably got its name from (wonder how the author, Terry Brooks, feels about that--though he's pretty successful so maybe he doesn't care).

Chapter 11

“What time is it?” Damp-with-Dew suddenly asked.

Since they sat near the door, Treads stood up and opened it for a look outside. The rain had turned into a downpour so thick you could practically swim through it.

“Hard to say, but probably a bit past noon,” she answered.

“Hm, we should probably head out then,” Damp-with-Dew said to Acclesia.

Acclesia looked at Jeval. “We’re babysitting our neighbor’s kids.”

“Kitten-sitting, actually,” Damp-with-Dew said, with a chuckle.

Acclesia grunted. “Don’t call it that just because they’re Khajiit. You can be such a hypocrite sometimes. But time for us to go. Plus, it’s not often we get rain like this. I’d hate to waste it indoors.”

“It is a good storm,” Treads said, her eyes on the falling rain.

“Come out and enjoy it with us. Jeval, you up?” Damp-with-Dew asked.

Jeval shook his head. “Think I’ll stay in for a bit.”

“Soft-skins never appreciate rain. What a pity.”

“I’ll come back after I walk them home, okay? They live near Shellbreakers Court, so they’re close,” Treads said.

“Cool.”

Truth was, Jeval wanted to be alone with his thoughts for a bit. Once Treads and her friends were gone, he walked up to the bar. He’d grown up in western Cyrodiil, where drinking alcohol before sunset was the kind of thing that you had to be either a loser or a noble to do, and he wasn’t either of those things.

But he needed something.

He ordered some rice wine and the publican gave him a small clay jar of the stuff in return for a five-septim piece. Jeval uncorked it and took a sip. Cheap and oily, but it’d do.

He kept thinking about what Damp-with-Dew had said, how he wanted to put Dunmer and Imperials in slave camps. How could anyone think something so screwed up? They weren’t all bad people! Yeah, the Dunmer were twisted in so many ways, and the Imperials lorded it over everyone. But they didn’t deserve slavery.

Except, he realized, that wasn’t the screwed-up part. The real problem was that Jeval had gotten freaked out about Damp-with-Dew saying Dunmer and Imperials deserved it when it was already happening to Argonians and Khajiit right that moment!

“Way to prioritize, dipshit,” he muttered to himself, and took another sip. The Empire had gotten into his brain, and he hadn’t even known it.

Maybe the Empire had to go. Except what came after? It’d get worse in the short-term. A lot worse. Maybe because the Empire had made sure it would be. In the long-term?

Who knew?

Why did the world suddenly expect him to figure this out? He wasn’t smart! He was just a regular guy who wanted to hang out with his friends and get a decent job and maybe marry Quinn or at least some cool chick who was like Quinn.

Even if he was smart, who the hell was he to decide? It’s not like he had better answers than anyone else.

Jeval let his thoughts wander, sometimes to stuff from the last few weeks, sometimes to stuff from farther back or way ahead in the future. Back in Drenlyn, all he had to think about was getting out. Now he had a ton of options and none of them seemed good.

Between his thoughts and the rice wine, he lost track of time. It was only when he noticed that Treads hadn’t come back yet that he wondered how long he’d been sitting at the bar. He looked around the cornerclub: no Argonians there.

Maybe she’d decided to hang out at Damp-with-Dew’s place for a while. Everyone was going in different directions these days, so why not his best friend, too?

He remembered what she’d said about Argonians and Khajiit disappearing.

His guts tied themselves into knots. This was crazy. But how could he be sure?

His face hot from the wine, Jeval opened the cornerclub door and looked outside. The rain had slackened a little bit but wasn’t even close to being done. The street stretched in both directions, not much more than mud between adobe walls.

Any second now, Treads would appear, and they’d duck back into the cornerclub, or hang out at her place, or something.

Okay, so Damp-with-Dew and Acclesia lived near Shellbreakers Court. He kind of knew where that was. Just head north on this street and turn right at the next big one. That’d at least put him on more-or-less the same route that they’d taken. Probably.

Jeval started walking north, the mud sucking at his soles. His heart rate kept ramping up, his chest getting tighter. This was silly. He was being paranoid. Except it didn’t feel paranoid, knowing what he knew. Sometimes he called out Treads’s name. He looked down each alley he passed, just in case.

That’s how he found her.

Treads lay face down in the muck, her snout sticking up above a filthy puddle. A Dunmer in mismatched netch leather knelt next to her, his gray hands busy tightening and tying up the ropes wrapped around her body.

The Dunmer raised his head. Red eyes met black.

“Let… let her go,” Jeval said, his thick tongue fighting him every inch of the way.

The slaver was tall, his body lean and muscled. A netch leather cap covered his head, but his face was all lines and angles. Nothing soft. Nothing kind.

“Let her go!” Jeval tried again, shouting this time.

Finally, the slaver spoke. “Run away, little Bosmer. This lizard’s mine.”

Jeval shook his soaked head. “No. She’s, uh, a citizen of the Empire! Her dad works up in Fort Moonmoth. You hurt her, you’re gonna get the entire Legion on your ass!”

He barely heard his words over the beating of his heart and the rush of his blood.

“Go home, little Bosmer. Unless you want to join her. There are some uses for scrawny slaves, but not many. You won’t survive long.”

“Help!” Jeval shouted.

But the rain obliterated the sound.

Maybe he could run and get help. But that’d take minutes when Treads might only have seconds. If he lost sight of her…

He’d never see her again.

The slaver stood up. A sheathed blade hung from his belt, which he took out. The blade was short but sharp, made of black iron.

Jeval took a step back. He’d been in a few dangerous situations, but there’d always been someone to bail him out. Not this time. This Dunmer had done worse than murder.

He shivered. This wouldn’t be like a fight in the old stories. It’d be quick, and it’d be cruel.

It’d hurt.

But standing there cold and wet and small, without weapons or armor and without the skill to use either, Jeval knew only one thing: that he would save his best friend, or he would die trying.

Jeval reached into the muck and grabbed a fistful of the stuff. Then he charged. He didn’t even know what he planned to do, exactly. Maybe blind the slaver with mud. But the Dunmer raised the blade.

His nerve failed him. Jeval skidded to a halt, eyes zeroing in on the black blade less than a foot away. All it’d take was one cut.

By stopping his charge, he’d left himself wide open.

He was about to die.

Then the slaver fell. Jeval saw it: Treads had been tied up, but her tail was still free, and she’d knocked him down with it.

“I always got your back, Treads. I mean that.”

“And I got yours, Jeval. Whatever happens.”

Screaming at the top of his lungs, Jeval jumped on the prone slaver. His fists pounded the Dunmer again and again, most of his blows hitting thick netch leather. But he didn’t care.

The fallen Dunmer twisted under him. A hand grabbed his side and pushed, and Jeval fell into the mud. The world turned into a blind mess of fists, arms, and scowling faces.

A gray hand pushed down on his chest. A black blade flashed at the edge of his vision.

Jeval squirmed free and rolled to the side. Something hot and wet gushed onto his body.

Prone in the dirt, Jeval turned and looked. The slaver supported himself on the wall with one extended arm, red eyes wide open and blood dribbling out of his mouth. The sword was buried halfway into his torso.

“Help…” the Dunmer wheezed. He inched toward Jeval, his body shaking from the effort.

Jeval darted in, grabbed the sword’s handle, and pulled. The weapon slid out. Blood sprayed from the wound, spattering Jeval’s’ face and hair. He backed away and gagged.

Frothy gore erupted from between the Dunmer’s gray lips, and he fall face-first into the muck.

He stared at the dead or dying Mer for a few seconds before he noticed Treads calling for help.

“I got you, Treads! You’re okay! I got you!” he cried, tears streaming down from his face.

And when she was free, she threw her arms around him tighter than he thought possible, her high sharp rasp the only sound he heard as she wept.

But Treads being Treads, she didn’t weep long.

“Jeval?” she said, her voice shaking. “We have to get out of here. We can’t be seen near a dead Dunmer.”

Jeval blinked and shook his head to clear it. He still felt keyed up, his body still ready to fight.

“Jeval!”

“I can’t move Treads, you’re holding me too tight.”

“Sorry.” She let go, and Jeval stood up. The dead slaver still lay in the mud. He was dead, right? Jeval wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. Best guess, he’d twisted away and the Dunmer lost his balance, stabbing himself in the process.

“What happened?” he asked. “What about your friends, uh, Damp and—I mean, Damp-with-Dew and—”

“They’re fine. I took them back to their apartment, and then I turned around to go back to the cornerclub. I was halfway to the Spiked Scrib when this happened.”

Jeval took it all in. Okay, maybe this wasn’t so bad. “I don’t know much about law, but that guy attacked you first. We were just defending ourselves. I think we’re okay.”

“I know that’s what the law says,” Treads said, speaking just loud enough to be heard above the rain. “But I don’t know if it’s going to work out that way.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Hey, I know! Let’s uh, talk to Quinn’s mom. She’s a lawyer.”

“She does business law. Not stuff like this.”

“She knows more than anyone else we know!”

“Fine, but we have to go. We have to go!”

Treads sprang to her feet and ran to the street, gesturing at him to follow. Jeval obeyed and had just about gotten out when he realized he was still gripping the slaver’s sword. Didn’t seem smart to walk around with that.

He paused and turned around, throwing the sword at the corpse. It landed in the mud a few feet away. With that done, he turned around.

A window in the apartment at the other end of the street had opened. A Dunmer woman stared at him, looking like she was about to scream.

“It’s not what it looks like!” he yelled.

And then he ran to Treads as fast as his feet could take him, like all the daedra of Oblivon were chasing him.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 9 2023, 09:15 PM

Heh, after previously whining about the way Argonians are maligned, Damp wastes no time insulting Kitten-people and Soft-skins. Even Acclesia called him on his hypocrisy.

I love how the Argonians appreciate the rain and look forward to spending time in it.

Some interesting introspective pondering Jeval does over his rice wine.

Worried about his pal, Jeval trudges out into the weather to find her. And Yikes! He found her alright. Ill-equipped and outmatched, he charges in to save his pal. A saying of Buffy’s is most apropos here, “When it comes to my friends, I don’t count the cost.” I wanted to cheer Jeval for his decision to either save Treads or die in the attempt. Whew, they both survived unscathed. Treads brings up what may be a legit concern however. And, uh-oh, a Dunmer window-witness to the pair’s escape does not bode well.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 10 2023, 01:59 AM

I like the little world-building nods here. Argonians are only happy when it rains, like the song by Garbage. And only losers and nobles drink alcohol before noon.

And a nice nod to show that Damp is neither altruistic or noble. He's happy denigrating others too.

Jeval sounds like everyone else who has lived through interesting times. You know a normal person. The more I learn about history lately, the more I see the so called "Great Men" of it were just ordinary people muddling through things as best they could. Often at worst they could.

Good thing Jeval got the itch to go looking for Treads. Those disappearances were not just stories I see. All those slavers we find in Vvardenfell's caves had to get their captives from somewhere. Here is one example of where. It reminds me of once the Fugitive Slave Act was passed, Southern slavers could go to any Northern state to ostensibly catch escaped slaves. But in reality they often just kidnapped any black person they could get their hands on.

That was an ugly affair, exactly as Jeval predicted. I wonder if he got lucky and stabbed the Dunmer, or if someone else had?

Just when it looked like they were going to get away, that Dunmer had to finally look out her window. Now things could get ugly with the law. If they are identified, I imagine that Jeval and Treads could get executed. Or sentenced to slavery.

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Nov 12 2023, 05:53 PM

@Acadian - Yeah, Damp-with-Dew isn't that great of a guy. Hopefully he'll wake up and see where this is headed before he gets wrapped up in the An-Xileel, but who knows (this is his last appearance in the story, so his ultimate fate is ambiguous).

Jeval and Treads survived, but their troubles are just beginning.

@SubRosa - Figured it'd make sense for the Argonians to enjoy rain. And the thing about alcohol is based on the idea that you don't drink before 5 pm. Which is more of an American thing, but this story does have a somewhat Americanized version of Cyrodiil.

That's basically it. Like most folks, Jeval just wants to live his life. And it ties in with Morrowind, the game, since the game never confirms if the Nerevarine Prophecy is true. It's entirely valid to play the game as just some person who's trying to figure out a weird situation.

The slaver actually slipped and stabbed himself. Jeval got rather lucky, in that sense. But he'll have plenty of his own troubles ahead.

Chapter 12

Over mud and pavement, across the Duke Vedam Dren Bridge, and through the driving rain: Treads ran with Jeval every step of the way.

Nothing seemed real. Like this had to be a dream, right? Sure, he’d been in some fights.

But he’d never saved anyone’s life before. Never did anything that got another person killed, either. So yeah, had to be a dream and he’d soon wake up and deal with the usual bullshit instead of this.

Treads did most of the talking once they got to the Morgendorffer house. She explained what had happened, what Jeval had done. Meanwhile, he nodded along as they both dripped mud and worse onto the entry rug.

Quinn was there too. She hugged them both, not caring about the dirt.

“I’m so glad you’re both okay!” she said.

Maybe it was the perfume she wore that day, but something about seeing and feeling Quinn after the fight sent shivers down Jeval’s spine, made his knees weak so that he thought he’d fall on the floor.

He kept standing. Most of what Mrs. Morgendorffer said sounded like a buzzing in his ears. But he did hear one thing:

“No, you haven’t committed any crime…”

A goofy grin spread across his face when he heard it. Things were fine.

Treads left to check in with her family. She promised to tell Jeval’s folks what had happened. Before she left, she took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“Keep your head down, okay? Promise?” she’d said.

“Absolutely.”

When the door closed behind her, he wondered why she’d still sounded worried.

Quinn helped her dad set up a hot bath for him (seemed crazy that they could take baths in their own home), while Mrs. Morgendorffer did prep work. They gave him privacy once it was done, so he peeled off his filthy clothes to settle into the hot water.

At first, all he could do was sit and soak in the heat. Somehow, he still shivered, like his body hadn’t forgotten the cold of the storm.

Gods, he was starving. The thought of food got him to scrape the mud off his skin and out of his hair. His heart still jumped from beat to beat, like he was getting ready to run.

Things were okay, though. He hadn’t done anything illegal. And Mrs. Morgendorffer was like, super-smart. She’d clear it up. He just had to wait and talk to her. Mom and dad would be proud of him, he was sure. They liked Treads.

Who knew? Maybe this would start something. People kept on saying that Morrowind couldn’t keep slavery forever. After Jeval, everyone would know that the Empire was done putting up with it. That after 400 years, Morrowind would be fixed.

It had to work. Had to.

The Morgendorffers didn’t have any clothes his size. He ended up putting on one of Mr. Morgendorffer’s shirts, which was big enough that he felt like he could get lost in it. Also, a pair of Daria’s pants that she’d left behind when she left for Helnim on the mainland. On top of that, a wool robe so long that he had to pick it up to keep from tripping over.

Quinn had gotten some food for him: bread, kwama scuttle, and hot tea. She sat him down in the kitchen, feeding him little pieces. Rain still fell outside, and the sky kept getting darker. It’d be evening soon.

“You’re a hero, you know that? I’m so glad you were looking out for Treads.”

“She did a lot, too. Like she tripped the guy with her tail. Then uh…”

The slaver’s dying face rose up in Jeval’s memory. His stomach twisted.

“Jeval, are you okay?”

“Uh…”

He hadn’t killed the slaver. Not exactly. And who cared if a slaver died? But it was easy dealing with death that was far away. Harder when it was up close and personal.

“Yeah,” he finally said, still feeling sick.

“You’ll be fine.”

He tried to relax. Somehow, he’d gotten a terrible headache. Quinn fussing over him should’ve felt perfect, but all he could think about was the day’s events and what might happen next.

“Jeval?” came Mrs. Morgendorffer’s voice from the front office. “Are you up for a talk? We can wait until the morning if you’d like.”

“Uh, let’s do it now!” Jeval tried to stand up, but his legs had lost all feeling and he almost fell face-first on the floor. He caught himself on the table at the last minute.

Quinn gasped and ran to support him. They pressed together in a dark room for one frozen moment. But he needed to know his situation.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

He got to the office, where Mrs. Morgendorffer waited behind her desk. Three candles burned on a candelabra, and she had a bunch of books open.

“Please, sit down Jeval.”

He obeyed without a word. Somehow, he’d never imagined talking to a lawyer for help.

Mrs. Morgendorffer began to speak. “Now, before we begin, I have to make sure you understand that any advice I give you is in the capacity of a friend, not as a legal advocate. I mentioned this to you earlier, but I’m not sure you heard.”

“Huh?”

“My specialty is in the field of business law, as broadly outlined in the seventh volume of the Lex Imperia. In other words, I analyze contracts and agreements. Your situation is outside of my expertise.”

“Wait, what? I thought you guys handled all the law stuff.”

“The law is an enormous field, Jeval. It’d be impossible for any one person to be an expert in every aspect of it. Now, what I can do is give you some general advice—pro bono, of course—and perhaps direct you to an advocate who specializes in your situation.”

“Then what’s my situation? I thought you said I hadn’t committed a crime!”

Her expression (somehow) turned more serious. “Explain what happened to me again. Leave out no details.”

Jeval did. Thinking of it again sent all the little fears pulsing right back through his body: his best friend in danger; the slaver and his knife; the way the slaver looked when he’d died; the Dunmer woman who’d seen him toss the sword back into the alley.

“Thank you. I know it was hard to go over that again. To the best of my knowledge, you have not committed a crime.”

“Great. I’m okay then. Probably.”

“Unfortunately, perceptions often matter more than reality. What do you know about the court system?”

Jeval thought about it a bit. “Nothing,” he finally admitted.

“I see. The details vary from location to location. In Hlaalu lands, courts are decided by Hlaalu-appointed magistrates. The system here is quite similar to Cyrodiil’s.”

“That’s good, right? I’ll have an advocate.”

“Of course. I know an advocate in Pelagiad who handles criminal cases and has successfully defended outlander clients. He is quite expensive, however.”

“My folks don’t have a lot of money.”

Helen’s brow furrowed like she was thinking. “I’ll be willing to cover some of your costs.”

“For real?”

“Yes, Jeval. For real.”

“That’s great!”

She raised her hand. “Hold on. As I said, your case will ultimately be decided by Hlaalu magistrates based on what they think is best for Great House Hlaalu.”

Jeval shook his head. This was too much. “But aren’t there laws for this stuff?”

“Yes. But the law is often more of a guideline in Morrowind. What I’m trying to explain is that if this goes to trial, you will be at the mercy of the court. Your advocate can push for leniency or even absolution, but how much leeway he has depends on the magistrates in question.

“There are many variables here. For instance, if your advocate is able to convince them that you killed a slaver who was assaulting a citizen, the magistrates may let you go to avoid embarrassment. Balmora is Hlaalu’s face to the Empire in Vvardenfell District and sparing you will look better to their Imperial supporters. Slavers are not supposed to operate in Balmora, at least not so openly; whoever you encountered was likely going against orders.

“Alternately, if the magistrates are more concerned with appealing to the conservative elements among the Dunmer, they may frame it as a wild outlander killing a local. In which case, you’ll be in a very dire situation.”

Jeval turned cold. “But the guy was a slaver! I didn’t even kill him, not really. He killed his own dumb self.”

“Removing the sword from his body may have caused him to die from blood loss. Regardless of how he died, a great deal depends on the testimony of this witness. You say this woman didn’t see the fight?”

“No. Just me tossing the sword back in the alley.”

“And she didn’t see Treads?”

Jeval thought about it a bit. Then he shook his head. “No. I’m sure she didn’t.”

Mrs. Morgendorffer sighed. “Good. With respect to Treads-on-Ferns, her involvement would only complicate matters. Of course, without her, that means whoever investigates the scene will likely assume that it was a murder, or a robbery that turned violent.”

“Wait! What about the ropes?” Jeval asked.

“What about them?”

Jeval hated how calm she sounded. “The guy was tying Treads up! That proves he was a slaver!”

“Lots of people carry rope, Jeval. No one except you saw him try to kidnap Treads.”

“I’m screwed then! Like what’s even the point of the law?” he shouted.

For a second, he thought he’d made her mad. But she just looked sad, her eyes going to the three burning candles.

“I’d have had an answer for you twenty years ago,” she said. “I’m afraid I no longer do.”

She continued. “It’s not completely hopeless. It’s entirely possible that this witness won’t bother reporting what she saw. Violence isn’t common in Labor Town, but neither is it rare. If she does, then the odds are against you. But a good advocate can still persuade the magistrates to be more lenient. The witness may be a person of low character whose testimony will be doubted—though her being a Dunmer gives her an advantage that you lack. You’ll likely get a prison sentence, but you’ll probably avoid the headman’s block.”

“The headman’s block? Oh, [censored].” Jeval buried his face in his hands. This couldn’t be happening. “Treads is okay, right?”

“Yes, as long as the witness didn’t see her.”

“What if Treads came to the trial to back me up? Would that be safe for her?”

“To put it bluntly, no. That’s why I said it’s best for Treads to not be involved at all, even though her testimony may be exculpatory.”

“Excul-what?”

“Exculpatory. Meaning it might get you off the hook.”

“It sounds like I’m facing jailtime no matter what I do.”

“I’m so sorry, Jeval. It is the most likely result if the witness reports what she saw.”

His face screwed up, like he was going to cry. But he didn’t want to.

“What if…” his voice almost broke, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself. “What if I left town?”

Mrs. Morgendorffer frowned. “As a legal advocate, I can’t support you becoming a fugitive.”

“No offense, but I don’t think I have a choice! And you said you were just giving me advice as a friend.”

“You’re right, I did. I’m not an expert in this sort of thing, you understand. Now, Vvardenfell District is lousy with bounty hunters. But you have a good shot at freedom if you reach the mainland, and no one here will pursue you once you’re beyond Morrowind.”

Out of Morrowind. Just like he’d been thinking about.

“Uh, how do I do that?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. You may be able to leave town if you do it tonight. The guards here are lazy. Even if the witness does report the incident, I can’t imagine they’ll start looking until tomorrow, and they’ll start simply by looking for young Bosmer. Unless this witness can identify you by name.”

“I’ve never seen her before,” Jeval said.

“Good. Which brings me to another point: as much as I’d like to, I can’t afford to shelter you if you are declared a fugitive. I’ll try to help in other ways, like contacting that advocate, but that’s the extent of it.”

Jeval wasn’t surprised, exactly. Mrs. Morgendorffer was all business. He wouldn’t want to get Quinn or anyone else in trouble, anyway. “Yeah, I get it. On that case, I’ll leave town. Maybe I can hang out in the hills, see if I can figure out what’s going on here. If they never come after me, I can go home. If they do, at least I’ll be outside of the city.”

“Do you know anything about surviving in the outdoors?”

“Can’t be that hard, right? I can eat like, berries and stuff.”

“Talk to your parents first. Your father’s a courier, so he’ll at least have some advice for making it on your own.”

“He's out of town right now. But yeah, when he comes back he could find me and show me what to do. Yeah, that works.”

“Oh, Jeval,” she said, and for a second it sounded like her voice might break. “I wish this hadn’t happened. You don’t deserve this. You’re a wonderful young Mer, and this is the last thing you should be worried about. They’re robbing you!”

She slammed her hand on the desk. “But the law is the law—flawed though it is. I can’t recommend that you try and escape Balmora. However, I won’t stop you if that’s your choice.”

“Thanks. I get there’s not much you can do. I should probably get going. Before the guards start looking for me.”

“I think that’s wise. Do you want me to get Quinn?”

Yes, Jeval thought. Let me see her one last time.

“That’s okay. I don’t want to draw this out. Besides, I bet things will turn out okay and I’ll be back like nothing happened.”

It was bullshit. But he needed to hear someone say it.

*********

Wrapped up in the mud-spattered cloak he’d brought from home and the loaners that didn’t fit, Jeval felt like all of Balmora was watching him. Which was stupid: he’d never seen the place so deserted. Rain sprinkled in thick, wet drops but the storm was mostly over.

A good sign, he decided.

Jeval couldn’t decide if it’d be better to stick to the main roads or go down the alleys, so he alternated. He crouched in the shadows each time a bonemold-armored guard wandered past. They probably weren’t looking for him yet, but he didn’t want to take a chance.

He hadn’t gotten far when he ran into a couple of guys standing outside some cornerclub he’d never visited. One was an Imperial in a snazzy purple robe that looked too nice for this part of town, and the other was a Dunmer wearing a flannel coat and smoking tanna from a pipe.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea how long this will last?” the Imperial asked in a nasal voice.

“Afraid not. This is my first time in Morrowind, and I’ve never even visited a Tribunal Temple before.”

“I see. Sorry to assume. I can’t believe they shut down the city.”

“They’re worried about something. But look, this is Hlaalu country. If even half of what I hear about them is true, there’s no way they’ll keep the city closed for long. Not if it means losing money.”

“The greed of Man and Mer is the one constant in Tamriel,” the Imperial said.

Jeval cursed. The city closed? Was this because of the Nerevarine stuff? Okay, these guys were out-of-towners. Probably safe to talk to them, but he put his hood on, just in case.

“Uh, what’s that you said about the town being closed?” he asked.

The two turned to him in surprise, the Dunmer nearly dropping his pipe.

“You gave us quite a start,” the Imperial said. “No matter. At sundown, the guards closed the striderport and the river. They said something about a temple announcement tomorrow. Not sure what that has to do with us.”

[censored]!

“Oh, okay. Yeah, there’s uh, some of that going on here,” Jeval said. “Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“I’m hoping it doesn’t last long,” the Dunmer said.

“Yeah, same. Thanks for letting me know,” Jeval said. He turned away and walked up the street as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

Escape wasn’t an option. He couldn’t even go anywhere in the city without maybe getting someone else in trouble. His family couldn’t shelter him—his house would be the first place the guards looked! How would mom and dad even react? He’d brought so much trouble to them.

All because he’d done the right thing. Done the kind of thing the Empire should have been doing in the first place.

It felt like his head was going to explode.

Not knowing what else to do, he ran back to the Morgendorffer house. He knew they’d have to kick him out eventually, but he needed a place to sleep, to clear his head.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 13 2023, 02:13 PM

Caught up in the morass of local law - for doing the right thing! Going to Mrs Morgandorffer was a great first stop. A chance to clean up, eat and get some qualified advice. Distancing himself from Treads for her benefit hurts I’m sure but at least he has a course of action – escape from Morrowind. Which was his plan all along, just not right at the moment and not without Treads. Uh-oh, the tribunal stuff seems to be a spanner thrown into the works. So much for his escape plan.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 14 2023, 02:29 AM

Jeval and Treads may not have done anything illegal. But that does not mean the law won't come after them anyway. Treads clearly understand this.

Ah, and Helen does as well. Now Jeval is getting a good look at how bigotry is not simply one person calling another a bad word. It is entrenched within systems of power designed to protect those in the in-group, and oppress those in the out-group.

I recall a neo-Nazi fight club - I think it was RAM - that regularly assaulted people in public, often while the police stood by and watched. They would even post videos of it online to brag. When people fought back, they were the ones who got arrested. Not the Nazis. Eventually the FBI got involved and finally arrested a handful of them after Heather Heyer was murdered, but that was only after years.

The guards are lazy. No kidding, Kevin is one of them!

So Jeval is going on the lam. Poor kid. But speaking as a writer, I recognize an inciting event when I see one. This just might be the call to action that sends Jeval down his path as the protagonist in a high fantasy tale of adventure! Or not. We will see. Granted, from the sneak peek we have seen of Jeval's future as a member of the Underground Railroad, something like that obviously does happen.

Uh oh, the city is on lockdown, because of the Nerevarine? Oh boy, this throws a wrench in the works.

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Nov 16 2023, 04:43 PM

@Acadian - In Tamriel as in Earth, doing the right thing never guarantees a safe outcome. But maybe safety isn't what's needed.

@SubRosa - Yup. And the law in Morrowind is very much intended to preserve the awful status quo.

In fairness to Kevin, he's one of those guards who probably would try to do the right thing. But he'd also probably mess it up in some way (unless he's teamed with someone who can guide him through).

Yeah, this is pretty much the inciting event. Jeval's going to have to change his life pretty soon.

Chapter 13

Mr. and Mrs. Morgendorffer set up a little sleeping area for him in the office. He lay down on the blankets, rested his head on a pillow from the upstairs bedroom, and stared into the darkness. It was the most exhausted he’d ever been, but his heart wouldn’t stop pounding and his brain wouldn’t stop thinking.

Each second that passed made him think of other horrible things that might happen. His whole body ached. Sometimes he imagined that the night would just never end, and he’d lie there being scared forever.

At least if he got arrested, it’d be over. No running, no worrying about getting anyone else in trouble. His fate already decided.

So why not get it over with?

Or he could lay low. Hope that this lockdown ended so that he could skip town for a while. Or maybe the witness wouldn’t say anything and things would go back to normal.

But right then, Jeval wanted an answer more than he wanted hope. At least an answer would let him prepare.

Anything beat not knowing.

Jeval couldn’t tell if he was getting any sleep. Time stretched out like rubber. He’d close his eyes but still be thinking. Then he’d open his eyes and drift off.

He lay there, not really awake and not really asleep, when he heard footsteps. Firelight flickered against the adobe walls of the stairway, fabric rustling against the steps.

Quinn descended the stairs, a candle holder in her hand. She raised it, the flame’s light revealing her features. Gods, she looked perfect somehow, even after just waking up.

Had she dolled up for him?

“Quinn?” he said.

“Jeval!” she whispered. She hurried over and sat down next to him. Next thing he knew, she was holding his hand.

This was it. The moment he’d been dreaming and praying for. Him and Quinn alone, nothing but the night around them.

Except it wasn’t. Not really.

“Can’t sleep?” he whispered.

“No. I’m too scared about you. And Treads. And everyone else, I guess. This sucks!”

“Tell me about it.”

“Mom says the courts aren’t fair. Maybe that’s one of the things Daria was always complaining about. But why shouldn’t they be fair! Like we have this big Empire, right? That’s something we should fix.”

Quinn wanted to fix it. She just didn’t know how hard that’d be. She probably couldn’t. What would have happened if Quinn had been the one to help Treads, the way he had? Would she be in as much trouble?

There’s no way she’d get off scot-free. But Quinn had a way about her. She spoke, and people listened. Because she was an Imperial, because she was wealthy, maybe most of all because people liked following her.

It wasn’t fair.

“I’ll fix it!” she said. “My mom has tons of law books around, so I can start reading them. It’ll be a cinch! Once I become an advocate, you’ll be my first case! Or wait, maybe I’ll do some practice cases first. But one way or another, I’ll get you out.”

“Heh, thanks,” he said.

She wouldn’t. It was a nice thing to say, but it was silly.

That’s when it hit Jeval. Treads had been right. He was over Quinn. Had been for a while. And even though he was scared, figuring that out made him feel a little lighter somehow.

“You being an advocate won’t give you much time for the Fashion Club,” he said.

She sighed. “That’s over anyway. I guess this is what I can do now. And mom says that having good style is really important for advocates.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d be like the best-dressed one. Maybe uh, sweeten the deal for the magistrate by giving them fashion advice.”

“Ugh, I know! Those robes they wear are just so boring! Like don’t they know what they represent?”

He laughed quietly at that, and she joined in, like she’d heard how silly she sounded. But silly wasn’t bad right then. Thinking about silly things had gotten them through Drenlyn.

“I dunno if your mom told you, but I might have to leave pretty quick tomorrow. Or today, I guess,” he said.

“Yeah, she did.”

Would Quinn let him stay longer, if it was up to her? He decided it wasn’t worth finding out.

“But I bet we can fix things if you go to court. Like I know it’s bad, but it can’t be that bad.”

It was. “We’ll see.”

Quinn didn’t respond. She blew out the candle and they sat there in the dark, hand in hand. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but for the first time that didn’t matter. He’d be alone when he ran out of Balmora or was marched to jail.

But he wasn’t alone now.

The sky was just starting to lighten when she spoke again. “I should go back up. Mom and dad wouldn’t like me here.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” he said, taking his hand out from hers.

She stood up and slowly walked back to the staircase.

“Quinn?” he said.

“Uh huh?” She turned back to look at him.

“Thanks for being a good friend.”

And he meant it.

*********

Jeval lay there as dawn’s gray light brightened the living room. Too tired to think, too worked up to sleep, all he could do was wait.

“Jeval?” hissed a familiar voice from the other side of a shuttered window. “Are you there?”

He jumped to his feet and hurried over to open the shutters. Treads stood on the other side, her scales looking somehow dusty. She’d slung a bag over her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you. I told your mom what happened. She’s… well, upset is probably too mild a word. Not at you—she’s proud of you—just at this whole situation.”

“[censored],” he said. “Mrs. Morgendorffer said I’m screwed if I go to court. I wanted to skip town, but they’re not letting people in or out.”

Her gills flared. “There’s going to be some big temple announcement today. Are you going to stay here?”

“Can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t want to get the Morgendorffers in trouble.”

“Where will you go?”

“Beats me. Hey, I was just thinking: the south wall isn’t that high. Maybe I could climb over?”

“Not a good idea,” she said. “There are a bunch of guards on watch. Wait, I brought you these.”

She put the bag down and reached inside. A moment later, she took out some of Jeval’s clothes.

“Here. Your mom wanted me to give this to you.”

Just then, Jeval could have fallen on his knees and worshipped her.

“Thank you! I’m sick of wearing these loaners.”

He took the clothes. Figuring Quinn and her parents would be asleep for a bit longer, he quickly got dressed in the office. Everything fit again, and that made him feel like he could do anything. He also grabbed his dad’s spare cloak and put it on, even though it was caked in dried mud.

“Okay, I’m getting out of here now. I’ll try to hide somewhere,” he said.

“Where?”

“Maybe an alley or something. Who knows, maybe the woman who saw me didn’t report it and we’ll be fine.”

Jeval exited through the front door and out onto the narrow street outside. Sunlight and shadow marked the adobe buildings around him. The air was fresh and crisp after yesterday’s storm.

Up ahead, a bunch of rich-looking Dunmer walked his way. He almost panicked and ran back in, but then he figured out they weren’t guards. The leader was a bald Dunmer in fine robes, who might’ve been a priest of some kind. They walked right past Jeval without a word, jaws set and lips pressed tight.

Something big was happening.

Treads rejoined him and they headed out. The streets were already filling up. There was this weird nervous energy in the air, carried in whispers and looks. One of the town criers, a Nord, had taken position in the middle of St. Roris Square and had started ringing his bell.

Damn, he thought. Crier had been his first real job for the Fashion Club, telling people about seminars and events. He wished he could go back to that.

“Hear ye, hear ye! The city of Balmora is hereby closed for a period lasting no less than three days and no longer than five!”

The crowd reacted. Everyone rushed the guy and demanded to know why. The crier held up his hands.

“I’m an outlander, same as you! They don’t tell me anything! The Tribunal Temple’s going to make an announcement at noon today.”

“Is this about the Nerevarine?”

“Smart money says yes. Now back away, I’m not done! Ahem. A Dunmer has been murdered in Labor Town! The victim was not a resident of Balmora, but his violent death shows the dangers that stalk our streets!”

Jeval closed his eyes and whispered a curse. This was it.

Treads put a hand on his shoulder.

“The only suspect is a young Bosmer male, between five and five-and-a-half feet tall. He has blond hair on the longish side, may be parted in the center and with an undercut at the back. The suspect was last seen wearing a netch leather cloak and with a fire petal pinned to his shirt. Contact a guard if you know who this person might be. He may or may not be armed, but he is dangerous.”

Jeval had ditched the flower, but he still wore the cloak. He dashed to a nearby alley, where he tore off the garment and tossed it aside. Nothing he could do about his hair, though it was mussed up enough to not have any part at all, center or otherwise. He should’ve asked Quinn to give him a haircut!

But he couldn’t go back now. Not when they were likely closing in on him.

“Maybe Mrs. Morgendorffer was right,” he said. “I should just turn himself in.”

“No!” Treads cut the air with her hand as she said it. “That’s crazy! You won’t win.”

“I know, but what can I do here? I can’t hide for days. Unless you know somebody.”

Treads peered out of the alley. “Maybe my house.”

“No. I’m not putting you guys in danger! Mrs. Morgendorffer even said it’d get worse if you were involved. Because they’re always looking for an excuse—”

“I know! Maybe hide here… ”

She trailed off. Jeval saw why a moment later. Tiphannia stood at the entrance to the alley, staring at them.

“Wait, Tiphannia!” Jeval said.

[censored]. She’d know about the flame petal, too. She’d been there when Quinn had recommended it.

Treads raised her hands. “Tiphannia, it’s not what the crier’s saying. Jeval didn’t do anything wrong. Some Dunmer tried to enslave me! Jeval saved my life. I know you don’t like me, but I’m begging you: don’t tell anyone you saw us.”

Tiphannia’s eyebrows turned into an annoyed little V. “Wait, what? You are talking way too fast.”

Jeval explained, giving Tiphannia the basics. All the while, he prayed that she wasn’t so mad at them that she’d turn them in. Gods, he’d never imagined his freedom hinging on Tiphannia of all people.

But her expression softened as he told the story. When he finished, she was silent for a bit.

“I’m not going to turn you guys in,” she said. “And I'm glad you saved Treads. No one... deserves something like that.”

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“But you better get out of town.”

“We’re trying to figure out a way.”

“You should ask… Satheri’s mom and dad.”

Jeval wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “What?”

“Yeah. The Rowenis know a lot about like, smuggling people. They’re members… of the Twin Lamps.”

Posted by: Renee Nov 16 2023, 08:58 PM

Hey, can you remind us what the date is in this story? I assume it's not Third Era.... maybe I'm wrong though.

Ha har I love that. "Hey, it's raining hard outside, let's not waste a good storm!" That sounds like me in a way. And Shirley Manson, as 'Rosa points out. We both are happy when it rains.

Yeah, I'd imagine Jeval wants to sit the storm out! Even the hardiest of adventurer might only want to go out into rain to clean his/her armor off. Not much more. But Jeval prob'ly don't want to get his hair messed up.

"drinking alcohol before dusk is only for losers and nobles!"

Indeed. The background of Vvardenfell does include slavery. Which doesn't get portrayed so well in the base game, but it is something which is certainly there. Interesting how somebody like Jeval could grow up in the province, have friends who are beastfolk, and yet such thoughts are just occurring to the fair-weather chap. These are the sort of thoughts a more aware individual such as Daria has already considered, even if this consideration is not written up in Outlanders.

He still wants Quinn! Or at least, somebody like Quinn!

Whoa, uh oh. A freaking slaver. Holy Crap. What is Jeval supposed to do? DAmn. Didn't see any of this coming. Okay, good job with the tail, lizard. Holy crap. Where is Dimartini when we need him?

Good thing it's still raining. That should wash some of the blood away, I presume. Another thing: he's all covered in mud. Maybe the witness-woman won't recognize him but he has to get OUT of here, NOW!

Hmm. Well just because it's not technically illegal doesn't mean there won't be consequences, or somebody looking for a short wood elf hanging around a female lizard. Plenty of Dunmer in town, but how many Bosmer/Argonian combinations of friends could there be? - But here's something new: for perhaps the only time, Quinn is nearby yet Jeval isn't so obsessed with her presence.

I love the lawyer-speak!

Hmm, another thing. Isn't it technically still legal to capture and own slaves? Or has that Renrija Krin/Haus Dres (spelling, I know) stuff not made a difference yet? ... The Empire is against slavery, but it's still okay here in MW, unless things have changed. Okay, "slavers aren't supposed to operate" anymore, in so many words. Still, I'd be worried.

PHew. Well if I were Jeval, I don't think I'd even try to approach this from a legal standpoint. Maybe he can avoid going to court. Only that one woman saw him, for instance.

Whoa, they shut down the city. Uh oh. Okay, but it's not because of somebody dying in the street. That is good, I'll asssume. Maybe there'll be so much going on with these latest developments that the dead slaver will just get passed over as offcials are too preoccupied with other things.

Ah crap. Young Bosmer, yellow hair, short in stature. Jeval is done. One thing for sure: you're really doing a good job adding that paranoid feeling to the story, Clav.


--------------------------------------------


OFF-topic stuff begins HERE!!

Sure, about bathhouses. There's this image that everyone was stinky (same as how it was once assumed 4,000 years ago everyone was a stoneage ape). But us humans didn't just become smart; more and more often we're learning how ancients had technology, some of which rivaled our own.

Mm hmm, about hygiene. I also remember reading somewhere how perfumes and colognes became much more popular amongst those who could afford such concoctions, during the Renaissance. Yich.

WHOA! Morrowind's name is from some other storyline, except with the change of one letter???!!! -- Now that, I did not know! I wonder if anyone tried to sue Beth because of that!

Posted by: Acadian Nov 16 2023, 09:30 PM

I’m not surprised that Jeval couldn’t sleep. What a touching visit from Quinn.

”And mom says that having good style is really important for advocates.”
As ever, Quinn nails it! Like most things, what good is doing something if you can’t look good while doing so?

Even in this difficult predicament, Jeval is thinking of others and how to avoid implicating anyone beyond himself.

Well, so much for not having an eye-witness report. Sounds like that Dunmer lass got a good eyeful and reported every detail.

Not surprisingly, Treads seeks him out to help. Then some hope from an unexpected Tiphannia. If anyone can help him out of Morrowind, the Twin Lamps likely can.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 17 2023, 02:51 AM

It is like being at the dentist. The waiting is the worst part. Best to just get it over with.

Well, I guess Jeval is at least mostly over Quinn now. Thank Aetherius for small blessings at least.

I wonder if they are going to announce the news of Dagoth's Ur's death, and/or Vivec's?

Oh boy, and the news of the slaver's death is out there, and it's being called a murder. Well that is it, inciting incident here we go. Sounds like the first thing Jeval needs to do is cut and dye his hair. Maybe grow half a foot and change his race while he is at it...

Tiphanna? The Rowenis? The Twin Lamps! Wow, there are more twists here at the end than a bowl of spaghetti!

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Nov 19 2023, 05:35 PM

@Renee - This is 3E 427, so it's the same year as Morrowind the game.

Given that the Argonians started in a swamp, and are physiologically pretty different from humans, it made sense to me that rain would be enjoyed. This even goes back to Jeval and Treads' first conversation in Outlanders, which was also out in the rain.

I'm pretty sure there aren't any slaves in Balmora in-game, and I had that here as being because the city's partly there to impress Imperials (since there are so many in the city). That's how someone like Jeval could come of age there but only be dimly aware of what's happening beyond the city walls.

On paper, it's illegal to go out and capture slaves. But raids usually happen in provinces like Elsweyr and Black Marsh, which the Empire simply doesn't care that much about protecting. This goes back to Damp-with-Dew's account of the slave ship off the coast of Black Marsh. What almost happened to Treads-on-Ferns was also illegal, though again, Argonians and Khajiit don't always get the full protection of the law.

Agreed, one should take a somewhat humble attitude when looking at the accomplishments of the past. Yes, they may not always be as impressive as what we can do today, but they still managed it with far less. And in so doing, provided a foundation for us.

Yeah, I remember reading about people using a ton of perfume in the Renaissance.

Heh, no idea. Might be tough now given how much time has elapsed.

@Acadian - Quinn is doing her best, even if this situation is well beyond her. Or any one person. And the Twin Lamps are probably Jeval's only hope at this point.

@SubRosa - So one of the later episodes of Outlanders was told from Satheri's perspective, and she overheard her parents having a brief conversation about being part of the Twin Lamps (her mom mostly told her dad to shut up about that). Satheri, of course, didn't understand what that meant. She only understood that her parents were hiding something from her.

Chapter 14

Jeval had no idea what that meant. But Treads seemed to.

“Tiphannia? I swear, if this is a joke…” Treads warned.

“It’s not a joke!” Tiphannia retorted. “I’m not stupid, okay?”

“I’m not saying you are. But how in the world could the Rowenis be with the Twin Lamps?”

Jeval tried to clear his head. “Wait, what are the Twin Lamps?” he asked.

“Abolitionists,” Treads said. “The kind that actually does something and breaks the law to free slaves. How do you know this, Tiphannia?”

“Because I heard Satheri’s mom mention it. I was at their house… Satheri was upstairs and I was like… waiting for her to get ready. We were going to go shopping. This was like… a year ago. Her mom was talking about it with her dad. They didn’t think I understood. But now I do.”

“Does Satheri know?” Jeval asked.

“I don’t think so.”

But Jeval could tell that Treads didn’t believe her. “Why the hell would the Rowenis, of all people, be Twin Lamps? They’re in deep with Great House Hlaalu, and last I checked, Hlaalu has a lot of slaves.”

“Don’t get mad at me,” Tiphannia said. “That’s just what I heard. If you don’t believe me, that’s fine. But this is the only thing I can think of to help.”

Treads shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense!”

“What if we ask?” Jeval said. “Like at this point, how could it even hurt? Worst that happens is that they turn me in, and I’m probably going to get arrested anyway.”

“It’s hard to believe. The Rowenis have a ton of money. Though now that I think of it, a lot of their investments are in importing goods to Morrowind. No slave labor in that.”

“How do you know?” Jeval asked.

She made a high-pitched hiss. “Because Sera Roweni told me a year ago, hoping I’d be impressed and tell him he was one of the good ones.”

“I know… what I heard,” Tiphannia said.

“Okay, okay,” Treads said. “Tiphannia, if I went over to the Roweni house to ask them about this, would you go with me?”

“I have work. But fine. Just make it fast.”

“Jeval, stay here. We’re going to talk with Sera Roweni and see what’s up. I have no idea how they’ll react to this.”

He nodded. “Okay. Good luck.”

Watching the two girls go, Jeval slunk down behind a barrel and hoped that no one would find him.

*********

Treads couldn’t have been gone for more than an hour, but it felt like forever. Jeval jumped to his feet when she came back, carrying a blue cloak under her arm. He couldn’t read her expression that time, and he braced himself for the worst.

“What’d they say? Where’s Tiphannia?” he demanded.

“They are with the Twin Lamps, and they might help.”

“Might help?”

“They’re rich Hlaalu, what do you expect? Ulnar said you should come by the Roweni house during sunset but before nightfall. If there’s a potted black rose by the front doorstep, you can go in and they’ll help. If there isn’t one, then don’t go in because they’ll turn you over to the guards if you do.”

“[censored].” One way or another, he’d have to keep a low profile for this day.

Treads continued. “It turns out that Tiphannia can remember just about every little thing she’s ever heard. That’s how we wore down the Rowenis into admitting they were with the Twin Lamps. Tiphannia knew so many other random details that they couldn’t deny it. Restoring her might have created a monster.”

“Huh.”

“She left for work right after. Think she’s helped as all she can.”

“It is a lot of help,” he said. “Was Satheri there?”

“No, she was doing some temple thing, and she doesn't know a thing about the Twin Lamps. Her dad warned us not to say anything to her. Hope she’s handling all this okay. Oh, and Ulnar told me to give you this.” She handed him the cloak, the blue wool fabric stained and threadbare. “People will be looking for the netch leather cloak. Which we should probably put farther away.”

Jeval donned the new cloak and put up the hood, not feeling much more secure. Treads took the old cloak and jogged off, returning a while later without it.

“It put it by the river. Don’t think anyone saw me. Hopefully that’ll mislead people.”

“Thanks. What now?”

“Just wait. Though I wonder if we should be in Labor Town. There aren’t usually beggars in this part of the Commercial District. Dammit, I don’t know anything about being a fugitive,” she said, shaking her head in frustration.

“I’ll sit tight. You can go home.”

Treads thought about it a bit. “I’ll check in with my mom and dad, but I’m coming back.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want you to get in more trouble, period. It’s like I keep telling my dad: none of us is safe when things are this screwed up. And nothing’s ever going to get better if we keep pretending that things are okay.”

She departed. Jeval slunk into the shadows, trying to make himself invisible behind the barrels. One nice thing about being small: it was a lot easier to hide.

It was at around noon that he heard a commotion in St. Roris Square. There was shouting and chatter, which was normal, but there was also chanting. Loud, droning chanting. Curious, he got up on legs numb from being in one position for too long and went to the mouth of the alley.

The priestess he’d seen at the temple, Muthsera Sadri, stood on a crate in the middle of the square. Acolytes and a few guards stood around her, and there were a ton of Dunmer all around. Some of them knelt on the flagstones, some of them chanted and raised their arms in the air, others just waited. There were outlanders, too, all looking as confused as Jeval felt.

Then Sadri spoke.

“I come to you in the spirit of revelation. For our gloried lord, Vivec—Holy Vehk—has revealed a new truth unto us! The outlander known as the Nerevarine… ”

Her voice shook. She paused to take a deep breath.

“… the outlander called the Nerevarine is indeed Lord Indoril Nerevar reborn! Garbed in new flesh, the hero of old Resdayn has returned to restore Morrowind. Three houses and four tribes call the Nerevarine hortator, as the prophecy approaches fulfillment. Now the Nevervarine prepares to march on Red Mountain and slay Dagoth Ur!”

The Dunmer in the crowd erupted. Screaming, crying, beating the ground with their fists.

Jeval didn’t get it. To him, the gods were something you worshipped just as practical thing. He’d never seen anything like this for religion. Like waves of power emanating from the crowd in that square.

The outlanders in the crowd backed away.

“Stay true to ALMSIVI! Stay true to the Temple! Morrowind shall be restored!”

Jeval slunk back into the alley. He didn’t know what that meant for him or his family. When Dunmer talked about the glory of old Morrowind, they usually meant it as a place for only the Dunmer and their slaves.

Not people like him.

Did the Nerevarine being an outlander make a difference? No way to know, he supposed.

Balmora had felt practically deserted the past few days. But now it was packed. All the Dunmer who’d been hiding rushed out onto the streets, chanting and praying. The Commercial District was so noisy that Jeval felt like the entire town had turned into some enormous temple sanctuary.

Treads returned at midafternoon, her eyes a little wild. She carried some bread and a full waterskin, which they split between them.

“It’s crazy out there,” she said.

“Did anyone hassle you?”

“No. Actually, this whole Nerevarine thing might be good for us. They’re so focused on it that they won’t notice you. I just hope the Rowenis aren’t too caught up in it to help.”

“Same.”

They waited in that narrow alley while Balmora went crazy all around them. Smoke from burning incense filled the skies, so it almost felt like last year’s riot all over again. But through the haze he saw the sun reddening as it descended into the west.

Soon, he’d know.

“Time to see if they’ll help.”

Jeval walked out of the alley, standing on tip-toes to look a bit taller and making sure the blue hood covered his features. Treads followed close behind. A column of Dunmer slowly moved through the street, carrying a big litter with a statue of some saint or god.

No one noticed them.

The Roweni house was nearby. Jeval steeled himself as he got close. His whole future depended on the presence of a black rose. If it wasn’t there? Then he’d just have to wing it. Try to escape or accept arrest.

It helped knowing that he’d do it all again if he had to. Saving Treads made it worth it. Because he knew she’d do the same for him.

“It’s there!”

Treads had seen it first. A little blue vase lay outside the Roweni door. Something (probably a passing pilgrim) had toppled it, but there was still a black rose inside.

Maybe he’d go free after all.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 19 2023, 09:34 PM

So Tip and Treads are off to see if the Rowenis will help. As soon as Jeval crouched behind a barrel the first thought that struck was how being a Bosmer does indeed make for a small target. How neat that a few paragraphs later, Jeval thought the same thing.

Tiphannia aids once again - this time with her newly discovered remarkable memory. A secret code signal of a potted black rose. How cloak and daggerly exciting!

Heh, I understand all this Neverrain stuff no better than Jeval does.

And the sun begins to set. . . Woot! The plant signal is there. Thankfully some passing pilgrim just knocked it over instead of pinching it!

This whole story really highlights the wonderful magic that Quinn wove into her Fashion Club – you’ve really shown us how every single member has the back of every other member.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 20 2023, 02:32 AM

So Tre and Tip are off to the Rowenis to see if they can help. I can appreciate Tread's complicated feelings about past Mr. Roweni trying to signal her that he was "one of the good ones".

It is also nice to see Tiphanna stepping up here in a big way, in spite of her own complicated feelings about her old friends in the Fashion Club, and how they treated her.

Well there is that big announcement. We are near the end of the game's main quest, and I guess this Nerevarine chose not to kill Vivec in the process. I have never had a character who let him live. Even January felt that she had to kill him.

Oh boy, the Dunmer are getting into a religious frenzy. This is about the time they do a pogrom and kill all the Jews. I mean Outlanders. Thankfully all the excitement is huge distraction. I imagine all the people who would normally be out looking for Jeval, are instead watching the crowds, if not participating themselves.

There's the Bat Signal. *phew*. Now to the next challenge.

Posted by: Renee Nov 22 2023, 06:11 PM

This is 3E 427, so it's the same year as Morrowind the game.

Thank you.

Correct: there aren't any slaves in Balmora. These poor slaves can be found (presumably for sale) in the more far-off locations such as Molag Mar and Telvanni territories. Thing is: capturing slaves is not legal, but in rougher areas there'd be nothing Treads could've done. Which makes the slaver trying to capture Jeval's friend IN BALMORA seem quite odd. Maybe this slaver was new at slaving. Maybe he'd just gotten the job, and was desperate to please whatever superiors he had, or was that desperate for money.

That's how someone like Jeval could come of age there but only be dimly aware of what's happening beyond the city walls

But wouldn't Daria already been aware of the way this works, and considered the implications concerning any beastfolk she went to school with? Even if it's not mentioned in Outlanders, surely she's worldly enough to have come across this topic during all her reading.


Chapter 14. Eesh. Only two more chapters left, I think! The Fan Fiction forum's gonna be pretty quiet during December! Maybe another storywriter will show up, though. I've tried to [Persuade] one of the other Chorrolites recently.

Yeah, that's the thing about Tiphannia. I bet all sorts of conversations were said in her presence, stuff ppl wouldn't ordinarily say, because everyone thought Tiph was too slow or stupid to comprehend.

I like that: One thing about being small, it was easier to hide!

Hmm, I don't know about this black flower thing. I wonder if it's a trap!

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Nov 23 2023, 05:36 PM

@Acadian - I remember playing a Bosmer for the first time, and being surprised at how short I was in comparison to everyone else. It stuck with me.

Heh, Morrowind lore can quickly become bewildering. That's one reason I kept it as background stuff; what really matters about the Nerevarine here is that it throws a wrench in everyone's plans.

Even as the Fashion Club starts to drift, they do what they can to help. It's like Jeval's thought from earlier in the story: Quinn's what the Empire was supposed to be (at least from their perspective).

@SubRosa - Yeah, I figured it'd be a bit annoying to have someone try to win points in that way.

Tiphannia's feelings are mixed, but she knows this is too important for past grudges to interfere.

Well, the Nerevarine hasn't chosen to kill Vivec yet. Maybe they're just focused on Dagoth Ur for the time being (and Dagoth is the more immediate threat).

The chaos is pretty scary, but yeah, it does provide a shield.

@Renee - Actually, Helen even remarks on this in Chapter 12. She points out that the slaver was likely going against orders, since slavers operating openly in Balmora would embarrass Great House Hlaalu.

Yes, Daria would be aware. But remember, Daria's someone who reads a lot and has a deep curiosity about the world around her (even if she keeps it arm's length). In fact, she did see the slave market during her ill-fated visit to Sadrith Mora.

Jeval, on the other hand, is more content to drift along. He knew slavery was out there, and he knew it was awful, but it wasn't his concern (until now).

Yeah, Tiphannia probably knows way more than most people would be comfortable with since so many folks would just blab about stuff around her, thinking she was too dumb to get it. She could probably start a one-woman spy ring in Balmora...

So I actually thought black roses were herbs you could collect in-game, but it turns out they're only in Morrowind if you have Tamriel Rebuilt (got TR lore and Vanilla lore mixed up again). It's a perfectly innocuous plant.

Huh, looking it up now and apparently it was also in Daggerfall.

Chapter 15

Jeval almost didn’t see Ulnar Roweni, who sat in the back of the parlor where the shadows were thickest. A big book was open on his lap, and he raised his eyes as the door opened.

“Ah, Jeval! Good to see you. I’m sorry the circumstances are so grim.”

Jeval nodded. “Thank you, Muthsera Roweni. I mean it.”

“You’re a good Mer, Jeval. Ah, Treads-on-Ferns?”

“Yes?”

“Jeval and I will need to discuss some matters privately. I don’t mean to be rude, but I must ask you to step outside.”

“Muthsera, she stays with me,” Jeval said.

Sera Roweni’s jaw stiffened. “This is a sensitive issue. Helping you puts the cause at risk. I am willing to do that, in this case. However, I cannot have anyone else listening in. There are times when the simple act of knowing something can be dangerous. What I say must be between me and you. If this is unacceptable, than I am afraid we’re done here.”

Treads looked to Jeval.

“It’s your call,” she said.

“Will you be okay outside?”

“The crowd makes me nervous, but I’ll manage. You’ll be okay in here?”

“Yeah.”

Treads took a deep breath. “I’ll be in the alley. Let me know when things wrap up.”

She left. Jeval flinched when the door closed behind her.

“Apologies. However, I must proceed with caution. The fact that we’re even having this conversation shows that my wife and I both need to be much more careful. I’ll admit we underestimated Tiphannia.”

Droning chants came through the walls and shuttered windows. It was almost black as night in the Roweni parlor. Jeval took a seat, hoping he hadn’t made a bad decision in sending Treads away.

“Can you help me?” he asked.

“I believe so, yes. You will need to be prepared to move quickly, however. You won’t have time for many goodbyes.”

“That’s fine.”

“Good. Go to the riverside docks closest to the south wall on the Labor Town side. Do so after nightfall, but do not delay past midnight. There will be an Altmer boatman named Hulilankonel—you can call him Huli, he won’t mind—who will take you to Seyda Neen. I’ve already paid him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“What do I do then?”

“Get passage on a boat heading out of Morrowind,” Sera Roweni said. He opened a drawer in the small table next to him and took a heavy looking pouch. It jingled as he handed it to Jeval. “This should have enough to get you to Skyrim at the very least. I’m afraid you’re on your own after that.”

Weighing the pouch was like holding his entire future in his hands. “Gods. Thank you so much. I don’t even know what to say.”

Sera Roweni smiled. “You don’t need to say anything. I must insist that you not tell Treads about the boatman. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but spreading this information does put Twin Lamps operations here at risk.”

It didn’t feel quite right. But what else could he do? Jeval nodded. “Sure. Do you always help people like this?”

“On the contrary. The Twin Lamps is very selective. Ordinarily, prospects must contribute to the cause in a great way. You did a gallant, wonderful thing. But you did it more to help a friend than to end slavery. I do not say that as judgment, simply as a statement of fact.”

“So why are you helping me?”

“My wife and I determined that this was low risk. After all, even if you do report us, you’re an outlander and I am a wealthy Dunmer of Great House Hlaalu. No one will believe you. You have also been a good friend to my daughter. And, if you want to get right down to it, I’m a sentimental old fool and I couldn’t stand to see you punished for doing the right thing.”

“Thanks again,” Jeval said. “But you’re part of Great House Hlaalu, right? Are you working against them with the Twin Lamps?”

“No, quite the opposite. I know full-well the evils that Great House Hlaalu has committed in the name of profit. But I am Dunmer. I cannot allow my family or my house to be destroyed. Thus, I will temporarily undermine Hlaalu via abolition in the hopes that we will at least survive the storm, in however diminished a form. A reckoning is coming for the Dunmer. My prayer is that it will be a reckoning of lost fortunes and ruined names. Because the alternative will come as a tide of blood to drown the land.”

“Like a revolt?” Jeval asked.

“Quite likely. Enough to say that it is inevitable, and the Empire’s decline makes it imminent.”

“Is that why you’re having Satheri marry that guy? So she doesn’t get caught up in this?”

“That is part of it. Satheri’s is a kind and wonderful girl. But she has no strength. Her being with us threatens the cause. We've kept our activities secret from her. Because if an ordinator or a Hlaalu agent wanted her to name names, all he’d have to do is tell her that my wife and I will be spared if she does. She’ll believe him, the poor girl.

“She cannot do any harm if she is far away. Her husband-to-be and his family have half-hearted abolitionist sympathies. They do not own slaves and are heavily invested in Cyrodiil. My hope is that they will one day move there, away from Morrowind and its crimes. Then Satheri will be safe.”

Except Satheri had no strength, like Ulnar had just said. Jeval wondered if he really wanted to say what was on his mind.

“Got it,” he finally said. “I think Satheri might be a little scared. Just so you know.”

“Scared? My daughter’s terrified of this marriage. But so be it. My wife and I might dress like Cyrodiilics, but we are Dunmer to our cores. The Dunmer are cruelest to those they love most. There’s just no other way.”

Jeval shuddered inwardly. But he was too worn out to worry about Satheri.

“Do you understand what to do tonight, Jeval?” Sera Roweni asked.

“Yeah.”

“Repeat it to me, so I’m sure you know.”

“I go to the riverside dock on Labor Town nearest to the south wall. There’s an Altmer boatman there named Huli, and he’ll take me to Seyda Neen. Then I find another boat leaving Morrowind and I’m on my own.”

Sera Roweni nodded. “That’s the gist of it, yes. I know you’ll want to say goodbyes, but I strongly suggest you avoid talking to anyone.”

“Can’t I see my family?”

“It’s your choice, Jeval. But I caution against it. That is all.”

Jeval stood up and bowed again. “Thank you, muthsera. I owe you for this.”

“You can repay me by escaping safely and quietly. Good luck.”

In silence, Jeval left the Roweni house for the last time.

*********

Sera Roweni hadn’t wanted Jeval to say any goodbyes, but he couldn’t leave Treads in the lurch. With his hood up and his heart in his mouth, he walked back to the alley. Balmora kept getting crazier around him; Dunmer kept marching and chanting.

Treads was waiting there for him.

“I’m leaving tonight,” he said.

“Tonight? Oh, gods. I know—I know it’s stupid of me, but I’d hoped you’d stay.” A thin rasp came out of her throat and she hugged him, grabbing him close. “It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he said, trying not to cry. Because he needed to stay calm, and crying would only make it worse. Tears came to his eyes anyway.

They pulled apart, though Treads kept her hands on his shoulders.

“Uh, Muthsera Roweni didn’t want me to tell you any details. I trust you—”

“It’s okay,” Treads said. “I just need to know you have a safe way out. What about your family?”

He gulped. Dad was still on his trip. Mom and sis would have to deal with this all on their own until he got back. “I don’t know if I can actually see them right now. Like… I might totally fall apart if I do. You’ll tell mom I’m okay?”

“Of course. Look, my dad knows what happened. We’re leaving Morrowind. I don’t know where we’ll go, and I don’t know when. But it’ll be as soon as possible. We’ll try to talk your parents and sister into going with us. They know this place sucks.”

“Okay, that works.”

“Also, I’m only saying this because my dad made me promise I would, but he says you should join the Legion. That they need troopers like you.”

It was such a weird thing to say that Jeval couldn’t help laughing. But it was totally Mr. Flowers.

“Don’t know if I’ll do that. But I’m glad he thinks that about me.”

Treads hugged him again. “You’re a hero, Jeval. Not your fault this town’s too stupid to see it. Write to us wherever you end up, okay? Can you promise me?”

“I promise.”

Her arms relaxed, and he slipped through. It was almost dark, most of the light coming from the votive candles and torches.

“Let me walk you to your house, at least,” he said.

“Just like old times,” she said.

They walked together as Balmora wailed into the night.

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 24 2023, 05:50 AM

The Dunmer are cruelest to those they love most.
This really does carry through your tales. Morrowind has been fucking around for a long time. I see old man Satheri realizes the finding out part is about to start. Given what we know, his worst fears are about to come true.

I don't see Jeval joining the Legion, though I can certainly see why Tread's dad would want him to. I mean, he's not wrong. The Legion needs people like Jeval. But I don't think people like Jeval need the Legion.

And it is off to walk into the sunset. Or it will be soon enough. It feels sad to go, in spite of how dingy and grimy Jeval's Balmora is.

Posted by: Acadian Nov 24 2023, 08:57 PM

It struck me as very wise of you to not have Sera Roweni cave in to Jeval’s initial noble insistence that Treads stay. Beyond Roweni being right in ‘need to know only’, it was very realistic since Jeval is in no position to make demands as he seeks assistance.

That said, I’m glad that Treads was safe until Jeval returned to her. I can almost feel Balmora – and perhaps all of Morrowind – burning, full of unrest and falling apart. I hope all the outlanders get out safely (despite knowing most of their futures from your main story epilogue).

Posted by: WellTemperedClavier Nov 26 2023, 05:49 PM

@SubRosa - Indeed. One of Synda's stories in Outlanders had her quote a Dunmer aphorism that I made up, something along the lines of "Only secret crimes are forgiven." Which I think explains the Dunmer approach to things pretty accurately; maybe when you start by worshipping Daedra of murder, you won't end up anywhere good.

How well the Legion would turn out for Jeval probably depends a lot on what unit he's with. Damp-with-Dew's account shows there are some really corrupt units in Black Marsh. But if Jeval were to end up with a unit like Mr. Flowers's, he'd probably be pretty happy. Regardless, he's not joining the Legion.

Yeah, I wrote this in part because it felt like I still needed to do a little bit more with Balmora. But now I think it's about wrapped up.

@Acadian - Indeed. Sera Roweni wants to help, but given his position, it has to be on his terms. And he was lying a little bit, since Great House Hlaalu is more involved with abolitionism than he implies. The founder of the Twin Lamps is Ilmeni Dren, a notable Hlaalu member after all. But there's no reason for Jeval to know this, so Roweni implies he and his wife are the only ones.

I actually didn't envision the Nerevarine stuff causing any bloodshed within Balmora. The Dunmer are shocked and upset, but the Legion's right next to them and the Temple's keeping some level of order. Even when the Tribunal disappears, the Temple will hush that up so things on Vvardenfell will probably be relatively quiet until Red Year.

Chapter 16

Jeval didn’t know just how bright a morning sky could be until he reached the city of Rihad.

A cool wind blew in from the jewel-blue ocean, brushing past the sandstone domes and the rooftop gardens all through the ancient Redguard metropolis.

Putting his hands in his pockets and trying to ignore the hunger in his belly, Jeval walked along the docks and wondered what he’d do next. Since leaving Morrowind he’d hopped from one caravan to another, from Skyrim tundra to Nibenese jungle to the Colovian dry hills. Now he was in Hammerfell, nine months after leaving Morrowind. The place wasn’t quite what he’d expected, but he liked it anyway.

The money Muthsera Roweni had given him was long-gone. The caravans hadn’t paid much. He’d used a big chunk of change to send a letter to Balmora, not even knowing if his family and friends were still there. He had enough to survive a few more days.

But somehow, he wasn’t that worried. Things were beginning for him, not ending. He looked good, too. Turned out, there were ways to stay stylish on a budget. He’d found a wooden comb left by the roadside in Skyrim to keep his hair nice. On the caravan to Bruma, a friendly Orc with a pair of scissors had given him a new haircut, one trimmed down and sleek but still with that lock hanging down over his forehead. Clothes were tough; he couldn’t afford anything new. But he cleaned what he had in the springs and rivers. He’d even added a bright red sash he’d bought at a second-hand shop in Chorrol.

Jeval stopped at one of the ships, a sturdy but weather-beaten cog. A powerfully built Redguard walked the deck, taking notes on a slate.

“Hey, uh, are you guys hiring?” Jeval asked.

The Redguard looked up from the slate. “Sure, we always need a few extra hands. You know anything about sailing?”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t,” Jeval admitted. “But I learn fast, I’m nimble, and I can take care of myself. I caravan-hopped from Morrowind to here, and I’m still alive.”

The man nodded. “We keep things pretty simple on here, take cargo from Point A to Point B, with maybe a stop or two along the way. Our next trip’s to Virimoor with a stopover in Anvil. Now, you have to be able to pull your weight. If you aren’t, we’ll leave you in Anvil. But if you are, you can stay with us.”

“Sounds fair to me.”

The man smiled. “That’s the spirit! We’re leaving early Sundas morning. You’d best get here at midnight Loredas to be sure you get your place. Think you can manage that?”

“For sure. I’ll see you then.”

“Don’t be late.”

Walking away from the dock, the whole city and all its adventures before him, Jeval knew he’d make it. He’d miss Quinn and the Fashion Club. He’d even miss Balmora in a weird way. But he’d find something new here.

And even though it hurt like hell to be so far away from Treads, he somehow knew they’d meet again, each of them with a hundred new stories to tell.

The End

Posted by: Acadian Nov 26 2023, 09:13 PM

This storyline has been rather a sad one overall because I don’t really think there is any solution to the problems plaguing Morrowind, including the fashion club’s little corner of it. But your title for the story foretold that. Jeval was an excellent primary point of view for this poignant tale and you did a superb job bringing his voice to life.

I was delighted to see this final episode nicely laced with a lighter, humorous and optimistic touch. Jeval continues to exercise the lessons Quinn taught him as he maintains his dapper appearance – even on a budget. His final ruminations made me smile as he holds high hopes for the future. And I tend to agree with him, for he has shown himself to be a resourceful survivor.

Thank you for another very enjoyable read!

Posted by: SubRosa Nov 27 2023, 12:18 AM

Jeval made it! All the way to Hammerfell no less!

And Jeval is styling Patrick Swayze-like as he saunters along the streets of Rihad. https://youtu.be/I_izvAbhExY?si=kP6RXUEFwQ1TN2xx

And now we see how Jeval will become the sailor we will know in the future.

As Acadian said, this is a rather somber story, as it deals with all the ugly inequality of Morrowind, and hints at the cataclysm that we know is on the horizon. But it is a good inciting incident for Jeval to become the Underground Railroad man we met in the epilogue of Dara's tale.

But the end is very positive, which I also liked. Jeval is surviving the unfairness and cruelty of the world, and is creating a better life for both himself and the people around him. Leaving the world a little better than you found it is about the most noble thing I think a person can do.

Posted by: Renee Nov 28 2023, 06:59 PM

Very true. Daria was in Sadirth Mora. Not sure how far she walked around, but yeah, if she was headed toward that outdoor marketplace and the docks, chances are she would've seen the slaves in those hanging pod things. Fay Daway (my wood elf) managed to join Telvanni, then was shocked by those pods. She opened every one of those pods. There are no consequences for this, thank the Gods. It would've been 1 against dozens.

Nice, they can hear chanting as they're sitting indoors. Almost sounds like outdoor prayers which occur in some Muslim countries.

He's headed to Skyrim. Twin Lamps sounds a bit like the underground railroad here in America's 1800s.

Ah. So yeah. Let's say Jeval somehow changes his mind or gets caught or whatever, and then he starts rambling about how Roweni is somehow to blame for whatever. Very true. Roweni could just say "Who? .. Jevel? Jevol? Never heard of such a fellow." Then it'd be his word against this esteemed member of the community. I love how this is not a goodness, cut-and-dried situation. There's a lot of risk and the possibility of serious consequences.

My gosh, he's going. Well hey, at least he won't need to argue with his family any longer about what to do with his future. Intead he'll be arguing with himself, in a totally cold, strange land. Hmm. If he's taking the boat to Skyrim where would he port? Solitude? Dawnstar? Windhelm? ❄ Hopefully Solitude. That'd be the least culture shock for the poor fellow.


I think it's possible. Joining the Legion wouldn't necessarily means he'd be a soldier. Like in Laprima's tale, Aunt Elisif recommended Laprima join so she could get involved in administration, or something else which is non-combative. I imagine they'd take one look at Jeval and say "no way are you a capable warrior!" But maybe they'd need him to crunch numbers or clean the mess hall or some such.

Never mind. He's not staying in Skyrim. Rihad, where is Rihad? Ah I see. https://en.uesp.net/wiki/Arena:Rihad. Right. The air is crystal clear because he's away from Morrowind's smog.

Even when travelling he's keeping his vanity!

Yikes, THE END. But it's an appropriate end, I'd say. The future's wide open. We can imagine how he got involved with sailing, indeed. Which explains his portion of the Epilogue when he was carrying those stowaways to better times & places. 📖