Outlanders (Morrowind Crossover) Options

[WellTemperedClavier]

@ Acadian - Yeah, ol' dad knows when not to get involved. In the show, Daria once describes him as "hiding behind a smokescreen of cluelessness". It's not that he doesn't know what's going on. Just that sometimes it's easier to pretend he doesn't.

I'll say right now that this story doesn't really touch on Quinn at all (beyond the first chapter). I suspect you're right, though: it won't be as fun as Quinn thinks.

@ SubRosa - That is 100% in-character for Li/Lli.

Musical Intro - "Where It's At", by Beck

Episode 5: The Guilded Age

Chapter 2

"You never told me you were a practitioner of the arcane arts," Jane said. "What else have you been hiding, Morgendorffer?"

It was two days after mom's ultimatum. Noontime's bright sun revealed every worn-down speck of filth on Balmora's adobe homes. Darkness suited most cities better, and this one was no exception.

Walking with Jane, Daria turned the corner to Guild Row where most of the chartered guilds kept their offices.

"I'm barely a practitioner! Back in Stirk I had this soft-headed tutor named Vandries who somehow managed to explain the basics of alteration, mysticism, and restoration. I can cast a few spells but magic's not something I know that well."

"Those aren't bad skills to have."

"I asked Vandries to teach me destruction and got a long lecture about how we should all love one another. Some time in Balmora would probably change his opinion."

They passed a black-robed Temple preacher, his hoarse voice praising Almalexia's virtue to the uncaring crowd.

"This might not be so bad for you. Aren't mages all about collecting books and secluding themselves from the world?"

"I wish they were." Daria sighed. "The Mages Guild is just another example of a corrupt imperial monopoly that abuses its power for self-enrichment and to bully competitors."

"Speaking as someone who's lived here a while... I don't know if I mind them all that much."

Daria looked over at her friend, a little surprised to hear her defend the Empire. Jane held up her hands.

"I'm not saying the guild isn't corrupt," Jane continued, letting her hands fall, "but at least they keep Great House Telvanni's wizards restricted to their weird little corner of Morrowind. I can put up with some corruption if it means not having to worry about a Telvanni lord deciding I'd be a good experimental subject."

Not sure how to process the information, Daria just grunted. She'd heard pretty awful things about Telvanni. But it wasn't as if Hlaalu was much better. Both profited from slave labor and double dealing.

"Corrupt or not, I don't have a choice."

"Isn't Jolda part of the guild? It can't be too bad if a goody-two-shoes like her works there."

"She's only in the guild as a guest scholar from the School of Julianos. The guild probably keeps Jolda at arm's length from anything corrupt. Here we are."

Daria stopped. The earthen buildings on both sides had gotten close enough together to almost squeeze out the sunlight. To her left hung a wooden sign emblazoned with the stylized eye of the Mages Guild.

"Well, good luck!"

"I'll need it," Daria said.

"Hey, if you learn some cool spells maybe you can go with Trent next time he tours! Mystik Spiral's always looking to add some pizzazz to their shows!"

"I hate you."

Jane's laughter rang in Daria's ears as she walked through the arch and into the cold shadowed space just before the front door. The place didn't look promising.

Why was it so hard to be left alone? Sure, her social skills weren't the best. But that didn't mean she had to throw herself headfirst into the guild. Except with mom nipping at her heels she basically did have to.

The thought of a secretive wizard's conclave conjured images of mystery and magic, of floating flames and arcane chants. But the hallway beyond the door could've belonged to any Balmora office, tapestries and rugs with abstract designs covering up the bland earthen surfaces. She followed a winding hallway down a steep ramp and into a vast basement too well-lit for the small number of candles within. An oak tree grew from a planter in the center, its leaves untouched by sunlight but somehow still green and vibrant.

So there was some magic, at least. But the rest looked mundane. Movable paper screens in wooden frames divvied up the room into a dozen or so smaller workplaces, each one occupied by a desk and a bored-looking wizard. No unidentifiable noises or auras here, just the sounds of sighs and quill pens scratching on parchment.

Only the Empire could make magic so boring.

Magistrate Lli had told Daria to look for one Associate Hetheria. She found Hetheria in a cramped office wedged between a monstrous desk and another of the ubiquitous partitions. An auburn-haired Imperial slightly older than Daria, she was busy writing a letter when Daria stepped up to her.

"Excuse me?"

Hetheria looked up, eyes uncomprehending. "You don't work here."

"I'm the volunteer from Drenlyn, Daria Morgendorffer. Magistrate Lli said she talked—"

"Oh, you're the new meat." Hetheria put her quill back in the inkwell.

"And it looks like I've just been served."

Hetheria waved airily. "Don't sweat it. So why did you volunteer for the Mages Guild?"

She decided to be honest. Maybe that'd annoy them enough to let her go. "Networking opportunities. At my mother's insistence."

"That's why a lot of us are here." She motioned for Daria to come in closer, which she did. "This whole volunteer thing is basically a crock, anyway. We take Magistrate Lli's clients to make her look useful to her bosses in Hlaalu. In return, the local Hlaalu bosses make sure to use this chapter's services when they want to look good for the Empire."

"And when they don't care about looking good?" Daria had to admit she was starting to like this woman.

"Then they get one of their own wizards to do the dirty work.

"That does sound like Hlaalu."

"You're catching on fast. Anyway, Drenlyn Academy's part of the system. At least you guys are all literate."

"That strikes me as an overly optimistic assessment."

"Ha! Anyway, I don't actually have much for you to do. We have some papers that need to be rolled up into guild-standard scrolls."

Daria considered it. Boring, but she probably wouldn't have to talk to anyone. Then again, her mom might get on her case for not networking enough. "Do you have any tasks that might require the literacy for which Drenlyn attendees are so famed?"

Hetheria smirked. "You don't get to pick assignments, kid. The Balmora chapter doesn't have enough people because Steward Artorius puts most of our resources into personal projects. And right now, there are a lot of scrolls that need to be rolled."

She pointed to another workspace, filled almost to capacity with a massive desk buried under a small mountain range's worth of papers. Next to it was a narrow cot where an elderly Orc woman slept on top of the sheets and shook the bed with her snores.

"Try not to wake Sharn up. She can be cranky. Get to it, volunteer."

Resigned, Daria crept to the desk and pulled the chair out with as little noise as possible. One of the legs scraped against the stone floor and Sharn made a rolling snort as loud as thunder, her massive body jerking with the effort. Daria sucked in her breath, but Sharn returned to her slightly-less-loud snoring a moment later.

Daria carefully sat down. A nearby candle on a brass holder burned but let off no smoke. Suspicious, she held her hand close to the flame. No heat: the candle was real, but the light was an illusion. She guessed it was cheaper than having to buy new candles each time an old one got used up.

She opened the drawer to her left which was filled with a hopelessly tangled mess of twine. She looked at the paper at the top of the nearest stack, wondering if it contained the secrets of a powerful spell.

The title read: Requisition Form for Ink Produced by Chartered Imperial Ink-Mixers and Reagent Extractors in Cyrodiil and Sent by Great House Hlaalu Merchants Using Animal and Ship Transport to Morrowind Province for the Purposes of the Approved and Chartered Guild of Mages Whose Practice of the Arcane Abides by Law as Determined by the Emperor and Interpreted by the Imperial Curia, and by Ethical Custom as Determined by the Priesthood of the Nine Divines and the Cult of the Ancestor-Moth.

This was going to be a long volunteer gig.

David Van Driessen (Vandries) - Only mentioned in passing, but Daria's arcane tutor back on Stirk is based off her hippy teacher in Beavis and Butt-head.

Heather (Hetheria) - Heather only appears in one Daria episode (S1:E3 College Bored), as a cynical and extremely lazy college student. Her personality here is similar, but will get Daria in considerably more trouble.

Trebonius Artorius - In-game, Trebonoius is the head of the Mages Guild on Vvardenfell. This story, which takes place in 3E 424, so a few years before the game, has him as the steward of the Balmora office. In general, very few Morrowind NPCs have any speaking parts in this series. Artorius is annoying and useless as arch-mage, and is presumably no better as a steward.

Sharn gra-Muzgob - Mostly just mentioning her for completion's sake. She is pretty irritable, so Hetheria's warning is well-founded.

Also, for those wondering (probably SubRosa, since she's seen the show), this episode is based on elements of both "College Bored" and "Cafe Disaffecto". It ends up going in a much different direction than either episode, though.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: May 28 2022, 04:58 PM

[SubRosa]

"This might not be so bad for you. Aren't mages all about collecting books and secluding themselves from the world?"
Ahhh, the classic mage from literature.

"The Mages Guild is just another example of a corrupt imperial monopoly that abuses its power for self-enrichment and to bully competitors."
The mages from Capitalism!

Neat to hear that Jolda is a sort of half-time MG member. Probably one of a dozen other things her parents are forcing her to do in addition to her regular school work. *sigh*

Poor Daria really is dreading the mages guild. It is either not cool and flashy enough, or too bookish! Of all things. Methinks she is just looking for superficial things to confirm her original low opinion of the MG. Who knows, maybe she will actually like being a magic user, if she just gives it a chance? Oh no, now I am sounding like her mother!

Oh joy, looks like Daria was right all along. Scroll rolling duty, yay! Maybe Mr. Miagi will come along later with his wax on/wax off lessons...

I loved the guild's version of an electric light with the illusory candle.

[Acadian]

‘This is a cruel world. Mages are envied their power then reviled for using it.’ - - Shalador

Ironic that Vanus Galerion became frustrated with the rather exclusive arcane monopoly held by the Psijic Order and, during the Second Era, formed the Mages Guild primarily to make magic much more accessible to all. But like any organization, over time sometimes things don’t work out exactly as planned.

Too early to tell if Daria will warm up to the guild, but it ain’t lookin’ great so far. Rolling scrolls is about what I expected the guild to task temporary volunteers with. Oh well, at least her office mate is snoring, not talking.

Like SubRosa, I was intrigued but the guild’s use of flameless lighting – extremely prudent in a facility full of flammable books and scrolls. Buffy found the same concerns among those living in the highest branches of Valenwood’s graht oaks. There, the need for light at night without flame to risk a tree fire was addressed primarily by such inventive things as torchbug lamps and the cultivation of a variety of glowing lichens.

[Renee]

Okay, this is a comedy. I feel better for constant chuckles on my end, then.

I meant what I said though last week, which is, Morrowind is an awesome game, yet it's also mostly devoid of humor. I don't get the naked Nord thing, for instance, so I never laugh when I see one. It's something I did not even realize until starting to read this story. Oblivion has me constantly laughing, especially at their conversations and general glitches. Same for Fallout 3. All the '50s-era glorification, the things enemies say (especially the robots) I laugh a lot in that game, too. Heck, even Skyrim has its moments!

New Vegas? Mrm.... not a humorous game (for me). Anyway...

Floating a netch like a balloon sounds fun. Until it knocks somebody over, that is. Ha.

Great. More of dad's questionable cooking.

Like... how can somebody screw up ash yams?

"Daria should try the Mages Guild," Quinn said. "All those guys do is read books in dark rooms. She'll fit right in."

Oh gosh, I'm in stitches, Clavier! Every line this week is lol-worthy.

Seriously though, I could totally see Daria performing some magic. She's got the focus for it, surely. What would her Birthsign be? Maybe not Atronach. She sleeps a lot and seems pretty laid-back. That'd be her best way of recharging.

Poor dad!

[WellTemperedClavier]

@ SubRosa - You'll find that the mages from capitalism (mercantilism, I guess?) are the ones Daria runs into.

And yes, Jolda's just as busy and as underappreciated as her show counterpart. As for the guild, I figured that it'd be as much of a bureaucratic organization as an academic/arcane one. So yeah, lots of scrolls need to be rolled.

@ Acadian - Funny how that works out, isn't it? I guess it's hard to avoid becoming what we seek to avoid, sometimes. Gets even harder over a long timeline.

Good thinking on Valenwood! Later on, Daria will get to visit some of Morrowind's more peculiar locales. In those stories, I had some fun figuring out how folks would make do with their unusual living situations.

@ Renee - Morrowind is pretty dry (both figuratively and literally). Which maybe helps in some ways, since it gives me more of a blank slate in regards to humor? Anyway, I'm thrilled to hear you find it funny. That was part of the goal.

You know, I hadn't really thought of birthsigns for the characters. They felt very game-esque, and a little tricky to translate into prose. The Lady is probably the best for Quinn. As for Daria, maybe the Mage?

Musical Intro - "Sunday", by Sonic Youth

Episode 5: The Guilded Age

Chapter 3

Sunset was no more than a sullen red glow in the west by the time Daria emerged from the Mage's Guild with a headache clamoring in her skull. She took off her glasses and massaged her eyes through her lids, fingers sore from rolling scroll after scroll.

And she'd get to do it again the day after tomorrow.

Quick steps took her to the Odai where riverfront merchants finished up the day's business, the cool air rumbling with guttural Dunmer voices. That sound mixed with her exhaustion and loneliness to conjure physical memories of pain, and then of Synda's gloating voice.

Stupid to worry about that here. The streets were packed with onlookers and guards. The attack had happened in the morning, anyway. Still, for all their obnoxiousness, places like Drenlyn and yes, the Mages Guild did offer a sense of cosmopolitan sanctuary. No one took notice of an Imperial there. Outside, the whole city seemed to draw away and stare at her with those unreadable red eyes.

She shook her head. Best just to get home.

Daria returned to find her mother lighting a wax candle before the small household shrine to Julianos. The flame's light reflected on the beads of white and green glass so that the entire mosaic glowed in the evening's soft darkness.

Mom put her tinderbox back on the shelf next to the shrine and turned to her daughter, her face as remote as a saint's in the candle's glow.

"Well if it isn't my daughter the volunteer! How was your first day?"

"Great. They put me in a dark basement where I rolled papers into scrolls to see whether my eyesight or fingers would give out first. It was my eyesight."

"Oh, it couldn't have been that bad."

Daria looked her mother right in the eyes. "That's all I did. No learning. No magic. Certainly, no networking. But hey, if you wanted a scroll-roller for a daughter, you got one."

Silence for a moment. "I know it's frustrating. But it's only your first day. I worked with the guild when I was your age, and—"

"You wanted me to do this to learn how to network, right? Because there doesn't seem to be much of that going on."

"Be patient. Balmora doesn't have that many options outside of Hlaalu, and I don't think you want to join them. The guild's one of your best options. You can't do it alone, Daria, even though you might like to. When's your next day?"

"Fredas. Most weeks that'd be time spent with Jane, but I guess it's more important for those scrolls to be rolled, my social development be damned."

"You'll still have time for Jane on Loredas," mom said, annoyance creeping into her voice. "Anyhow, I made dinner tonight! Bread and tripe, with some Cyrodiilic olive oil just like what we used to have on Stirk! Your father got the oil from one of his associates and I can't wait to open it up. It'll be nice to have a condiment that isn't made from mashed-up bugs."

Daria had to admit it did sound pretty good.



*********



Daria returned to the guild at noontime that Fredas. An unexpected and persistent drizzle had soaked her clothes on the way there and she conceded a certain relief at the dry interior.

The paperwork pile on top of the desk had renewed itself and she wearily set about rolling each sheaf into a scroll. Her finger bones ached as soon as she began. At least no one slept on the cot that day.

Time stood still in the untangling of twine and the crinkling of paper. A pyramid of scrolls grew on the floor next to Daria's chair. The contents of the papers offered no relief, memo following requisition following memo. She imagined the immensity of Tamriel's forests, mighty timbers fallen and rendered into pulp then dried out in the heat of the sun, refined and processed into usable sheets and then sent to dozens of offices across the Empire just like this one so that an exhausted guild associate could write out a request for more paper. And so the cycle continued.

After some time—how long, she had no idea—she heard Hetheria's low voice. Daria turned to see the associate talking to a Dunmer woman in dark velvet robes.

"Given my already considerable tasks," Hetheria said, "it's difficult for me to pursue my research—"

"That's not my problem. Your research is to be done on your own time. We aren't going to coddle you just because of your family."

"Certainly not, Warlock Athrys. Forgive my impetuousness."

Athrys made a dismissive gesture. "I expect the report on my desk by tomorrow morning."

Hetheria waited until the Dunmer woman turned away before she made a face, and then leaned against the backrest of her chair to stare at the ceiling. As if sensing Daria's observation, she turned to look.

"Hey, Volunteer... Daria, right?"

"I am called by that name."

"Yeah, so maybe you could help me with something?"

Daria pushed back from the desk and walked over to Hetheria, who was suddenly all smiles and light. "So you can write and stuff, right?"

"I possess basic literacy. And stuff."

"Warlock Athrys needs me to write a report, but I just don't have time. I'm working with other associates to refine the recall spell, plus I'm running behind on my original research—and I did not settle for Balmora just to stay an associate for the rest of my life! Maybe you could write these reports?"

"Maybe. I know some of the theory behind magic, but I don't have much personal experience with it."

"You don't need to for this."

"What's the report about?"

Hetheria raised herself from her chair and glanced over the nearest partition. Satisfied, she sat back down. "It's about unlicensed use of magic in Balmora," she whispered. "So it's not really work for volunteers, but I figure you're really smart—"

"Not for volunteers, huh?" Daria crossed her arms. "I guess that means I can't do it for free." She didn't like flatterers, anyway.

Hetheria's face suddenly hardened. "All right. I have money."

"Judging by that Dunmer woman's remarks about your family, I'd gather you have quite a lot of it."

Her glower intensified. "I do."

"Great. Let's talk shop. How long does this report need to be?"

"Four or five pages. It's just a summary, really. The information you need is all here," Hetheria pointed to a slender packet at the edge of her desk. "You won't have to do any original research."

"What about handwriting? I haven't learned forgery. Yet."

"I'll copy what you write."

"Okay. Twenty septims," Daria said.

"Ten."

"Fifteen."

"Fine!" Hetheria's eyes narrowed. "But you have to make it look like something I'd write. You can use this old report as a sample."

Hetheria reached into a desk drawer and took out another stack of papers. With her free hand she picked up the packet from before and handed both to Daria. "Don't tell anyone about this."

"Your secret's safe with me."

"And you still have to roll those scrolls, by the way."

Daria frowned. "Wait, what?"

"Look, that's your job here! If you don't do that, people will wonder what you're doing. Stay late to finish that but do the report now."

"I should've stuck to charging twenty," Daria muttered as she headed back to her desk.

At least this work promised to be a bit more interesting. She first looked at Hetheria's sample report which began with a lengthy preamble giving the date, location, and the guild's official title. The contents dealt with the slow progress of an associate named Ajira. Daria noted elements of Hetheria's style—her preference for multiple redundant adjectives and her omission of the Imperial comma. The layout was simple, each section getting its own overly elaborate heading.

Satisfied, Daria put it aside and started looking at the notes for the not-yet-written report. Those offered something a bit more interesting. Rumors had been swirling about a Nord woman, one Johanna, offering cheap arcane services to residents in Labor Town. Whoever had assembled the notes seemed pretty sure that Johanna was not a member of the guild and that by providing services—worse, charging for them—she was in violation of standard practices.

"Surveillance recommended," it read.

Daria went about turning a single sheaf of notes into a needlessly verbose four-page report in Hetheria's style. It was not always easy to expand on the document's terse observations, but she did her best. Hetheria's own wordiness helped, though Daria winced at some of the extra adjectives she had to insert for authenticity's sake.

When finished, she walked to Hetheria's desk and showed her the report. The associate gave her a startled look.

"That was fast! This better be worth what I'm paying."

"Hand it over and you'll find out."

Hetheria scowled. They made the exchange and Hetheria scanned the report's contents.

"Huh, you did a pretty good job," Hetheria said.

"Like any good counterfeiter, I take pride in professionalism."

"Great. Go back to rolling scrolls."

It was night when Daria left the office. Spent rainclouds blotted out the stars and the moon, the air damp and heavy on her shoulders. Oily shadows submerged the narrow street outside the guild, the darkness barely kept at bay by the feeble glow of dirty lanterns.

The deal she'd made with Hetheria suddenly seemed very foolish. But it didn't sound like copying was such a big deal. Everyone knew that guilds swam in corruption. Daria had failed to network. If anything, she'd annoyed Hetheria. She'd gotten paid though, and wasn't money the whole reason mom wanted her to network? The only difference was that Daria knew how to get straight to the point.

She gripped her coin purse to keep it from jingling as she made her way back home.


Ranis Athrys - Morrowind Mages Guild questers might remember Athrys as the rather vicious steward of the Balmora chapter. She's ruthless in pursuing the guild's aims. Here, she's not yet at the steward rank but still pretty unpleasant.

Ajira - Ajira, on the other hand, is one of the friendlier faces at the guild. She doesn't seem to be doing that well within its hierarchy as of the game, so it's suggested she's struggling here as well.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Jun 1 2022, 05:37 PM

[Acadian]

Isn’t Scroll-roller a rank in the Mages Guild?

’… mighty timbers fallen and rendered into pulp then dried out in the heat of the sun, refined and processed into usable sheets and then sent to dozens of offices across the Empire just like this one so that an exhausted guild associate could write out a request for more paper.’

Urg, even helping Hetheria by writing her report doesn’t count toward her scroll-rolling. I wonder if charging Hetheria undermined her chances of ‘networking’ with said rich mage? Hmm, is potential extortion a form of networking? Nah, probably not a wise path. On the other hand, to have not charged would have made her appear naïve and gullable. Oh well, perhaps she will be seen as a clever entrepreneur? And she has demonstrated that she knows literacy and stuff.

[SubRosa]

I see Daria is still living with the trauma of the attack. I hope she can move beyond it. But of course outside of videogames, being the victim of violence is not something you just forget about overnight and live happily ever after. Maybe she would feel better if she hired the Morag Thong to kill Sydna?

She imagined the immensity of Tamriel's forests, mighty timbers fallen and rendered into pulp then dried out in the heat of the sun, refined and processed into usable sheets and then sent to dozens of offices across the Empire just like this one so that an exhausted guild associate could write out a request for more paper. And so the cycle continued.
The War scrolls feeds itself!

I really hated Athrys. All of her quests are about murdering people or forcing them to join the guild.

Daria's extortion of Hetheria reminds me of all the times she did the same with her mother!

Well at least Daria got to exercise her writing skills, even if it was for rather dubious reasons (doing someone else's work for them, and outing other mages not in the guild).

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Acadian - The lowest official rank in Morrowind is associate. And Daria's somewhere below that. As for working with Hetheria, let's just say that Daria's gotten in way over her head here.

@SubRosa - The trauma's definitely something I wanted to portray well. Like you said, it's not something that'd really apply in many video games (particularly not a TES game), but it has to be addressed in literature. And it definitely affects the way Daria approaches her surroundings. Violence isn't something she has any experience with.

Yes, Athrys is a very nasty piece of work. I always tried to find creative/less awful ways to complete her quests.

Musical Intro - "Rock n' Roll Lifestyle", by Cake

Episode 5: The Guilded Age

Chapter 4

"Wait, weren't you complaining about guild corruption a few days ago?" Jane asked at the Lucky Lockup the next day.

Lunch was on Daria, of course, and she'd ordered the best the cornerclub had to offer: hot scrib pie and boiled ornada eggs, along with some of the rarely available coffee brewed from beans shipped in from Elsweyr's humid coasts.

"I only have a problem with corruption when I'm not benefitting from it," Daria said. The croon of a silt strider from the port briefly drowned out the noise of conversation.

"As a fellow beneficiary," Jane said, holding up a slice of pie, "I'm okay with that!"

Seeing her friend eat a good meal assuaged Daria's uncertainty a bit. She knew she wasn't the first person to help a guild associate cheat. But the nature of the report bothered her. Guild security wasn't something she wanted to interfere with. At the time she'd just been relieved to have something interesting to do—and she was reasonably sure she'd done a good job.

"Jane, have you ever heard of someone named Johanna? Over in Labor Town?" Daria hadn't mentioned the notes on which she'd based her report.

Jane's eyes took on a searching look. "Nope, don't think so," she said around a mouthful of sweetened insect bits.

"Hm, okay. Just wondering."

"Labor Town's a big place. I only really know my little corner of it."

They wiled away the rest of the drizzly Loredas afternoon in shops and plazas. Daria bought a big green beetle-shell hat of the same type she'd seen the locals wear to keep their heads dry during rainstorms. The new headgear proved its worth as the light sprinkles turned to rain during her walk home. The next day passed quietly but nervously in the Morgendorffer house, with Daria and Quinn both helping out at their mother's office.

What would happen if someone higher up in the guild found out? Daria wondered, as she sorted papers. The Mages Guild was an Imperial institution, bound by law and custom. Still, she'd heard the occasional rumor of people within the guild simply disappearing. It used to be easy to dismiss such thoughts but now, with her recent deeds heavy on her mind, such tales no longer seemed far-fetched.

Morndas afternoon brought her back to the guild office, her mouth dry and her heart pounding as she passed through the door and walked down the ramp. She eased up a bit once she saw Hetheria looking relaxed and glamorous at her desk. Maybe this sort of thing happened all the time.

Then again, she didn't have Hetheria's background. Coming from a noble family offered the kind of leeway that a Morgendorffer would never get.

"Well?" Daria said, once she reached Hetheria's desk.

"Oh, hey."

Daria stiffened, bracing herself for bad news.

"Athrys liked the report." She lowered her head. "And she doesn't suspect a thing," she whispered.

"Great." Daria didn't let herself relax, though. Something in Hetheria's eyes hinted at deeper calculations.

"And she has a job for you."

"Wait, for me? Doesn't Athrys think that you wrote the report?"

"She told me to let you do it since you've shown up for all your volunteer sessions."

"All two of them?" Either Athrys was the softest touch in the history of the guild, or Hetheria was up to something. Daria decided to play along for a bit longer.

"Well, yeah."

"And consistent with me being a volunteer, I suppose I can't get Athrys to pay me for this."

"You'll get some fresh air at least. Fresh as it gets here, anyway," Hetheria said, making a face. "Anyway, your job is actually to go to Johanna's place with this."

Hetheria picked a tin ring up from her desk and held it out to Daria, who took it. Faint markings gleamed on the surface, but the distortion of her glasses made it impossible to see them in any detail.

"What is it?" Daria asked, squinting to try and glean some hint as to the ring's purpose.

"We're extending Johanna a formal invitation! You know, so she can practice her magic legally."

"I'll admit my eyesight is pretty bad, so maybe there's something I'm missing, but aren't invitations usually written on paper? How does a cheap ring communicate that?"

Hetheria gulped. Daria stared at her through her glasses. "There's something you're not telling me."

"Okay, so it's not an invitation." Hetheria's jaw clenched for a moment. "There's an enchantment on that ring that will tell us how much residual magic is in Johanna's house. Not conclusive but helps us build a case. Just go to her home while wearing the ring, then twist it to the right to activate the enchantment. We'll get the information we need and no one will be the wiser."

Daria shook her head. "You've got to be kidding me. Hetheria, I barely know magic. I can only cast five spells, maybe one of them reliably. And the guild wants me to spy on a wizard? Forget it. Let me talk to Athrys."

Hetheria gasped and waved her hands, making shushing noises, her eyes wide and frantic.

"Don't talk to Athrys."

"Why?"

"Just don't."

"You're making me want to talk to her even more," Daria countered.

"No! It's—okay, I'll admit it. I didn't think this through. She wanted me to spy on Johanna. Look, I don't want to get involved with any of this crazy magic stuff. I just joined the guild to coast my way to a sinecure!"

Scowling, Daria stepped back. "No. I won't. Do your own dirty work."

Hetheria's lips turned up in a hard smile. "Look, Daria. I tried to be nice about this. But I've come too far to risk it all. If you don't do this, I'll tell Athrys that you wrote the report."

"And you'd get in trouble, too."

"Sure. Except my family owns a nice big chunk of Cyrodiil and is a generous donor to the Mages Guild. Your family, well, doesn't and isn't. So at worst I might get a lecture. You, on the other hand, will be expelled from the guild and probably charged with a crime. Yeah, that's right: the guild is government chartered, so by counterfeiting that report, you lied to the Empire!"

Daria's mind raced. Was that true? Mom talked about low-level corruption going on in guilds all the time. Usually, it was stuff they handled in-house if at all. Most guilds kept secrets they didn't want the authorities knowing about, so it was rare that they'd report problems to anyone outside.

Yet all that suddenly seemed very abstract. And she couldn't ask mom about this without revealing herself as a cheater.

She'd been played. And now this spoiled child of privilege held Daria's future in her hands. None of Daria's intellect or wit mattered compared to Hetheria's connections.

"Look, I am sorry. I didn't think Athrys would move so quickly. But it's not a big deal. Just stick your hand through a window and activate the ring. She'll never know. Johanna might not even be a wizard—wouldn't be the first time the guild's screwed up on something like that."

Daria couldn't think of a response. She stretched out her right hand and pressed it against the wall, leaning against it for support so that she didn't fall onto her knees.

"Come on, it's not that bad," Hetheria said, sounding a bit guilty. "I'm usually a nice person. It's just that things got kind of weird and well, I have to look out for myself."

"How nice of you." Daria drew in her breath. She wasn't going to waste time being afraid. If she'd gotten stuck with this, so be it.

She pushed off from the wall and stood up straight, forcing her features back to sphinx-like placidity. "Since I'm doing personal work for you again, shouldn't you at least pay me for it?" That ought to keep her on the defensive, at least.

Hetheria looked disgusted. "I would've paid if you'd done what I asked when I asked. You made me threaten you and I don't appreciate that. Now go do this. Athrys needs it done today. I'm going to hide out at Eight Plates so that Athrys thinks I'm out working. Meet me back here when you're done. The notes from yesterday have the directions to Johanna's place."

[Acadian]

Daria’s discomfort over what she did to help Hetheria is not conscience as much as it seems to be fretting over the possibility of getting caught. She’s probably not cut out for cheating and perhaps better off sticking to ‘lawful good’.

Learned a new word from you: ‘sinecure’. Thanks!

Wow, it seems Daria’s concerns were valid. She finds herself outplayed and placed into a deeper hole. As she points out, she can’t even really ask her mom for advice here. And Hetheria is both selfish and ruthless enough to throw Daria under the silt strider at the drop of a bug shell hat.

[SubRosa]

Wow, talk about guild corruption. They want Daria to be their snitch on Johanna? All Guilds Are Bastards. Wow, and its deeper than that. Hetheria is even worse than Athrys.

I suppose that Daria could go to someone else's house - someone who doesn't use magic - and use the ring there. That would let both Johanna and her off the hook.

Too bad Daria did not learn that Enemies Explode spell from Delphine Jend...

[macole]

Cake... I like Cake. Think I'll go get me some

How do you afford your rock and roll lifestyle?
You find…

a girl who gets up early
a girl who stays up late
a girl with uninterrupted prosperity
Who uses a machete to cut through red tape
With fingernails that shine like justice
And a voice that is dark like tinted glass
You find a girl with a short skirt and a lonnnnng.... lonnng jacket

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Acadian - In the show, Daria's sometimes a bit of a hypocrite in how she holds people up to high standards that she herself doesn't always uphold, and I try to stay true to that here.

Minor Spoilers for a 20+ Year-Old Show:

I got the idea from the third episode, "College Bored", where some college students hire her to write their essays for them. In that case though, Daria doesn't get in any trouble worse than being grounded, and doesn't fret about it either. Here, the stakes are higher.

End Minor Spoilers.

And yup, Daria's in a very bad position. Nobles don't play the same game as everyone else.

@SubRosa - That is actually something that might work! Though I have Daria being a little too paranoid to try, given how thoroughly Hetheria outplayed her. More powerful magic would be nice. Since Daria's going to see it firsthand in this chapter...

@Macole - Cake made some great music.

Musical Intro - Paranoid Android, by Radiohead

Episode 5: The Guilded Age

Chapter 5

Daria made her way across the St. Roris Bridge on the way to Labor Town, still not quite believing the situation in which she found herself.

Not too late to run home and tell mom everything that had happened. It might be a life-saving choice. Daria had no idea what Johanna was really like. She might just be a regular citizen victimized by the guild operating off bad information. Or maybe she really was a wizard who could fry Daria with a gout of arcane flame.

But that felt too much like admitting defeat. Bad enough that the guild was on her case. The last thing she needed was the disappointed look in mom's eyes. Mom getting angry wasn't that big of a deal. She'd blow up, yell and let off some steam, and then go back to normal in a bit. When she was actually hurt, she got quiet, her voice low like she didn't want to make the effort to speak.

Maybe if Daria did this one task, she could just go on as a volunteer and forget this whole thing ever happened.

Daria stopped at the end of the bridge and leaned against the railing. Next to her, a guar pulled a wagon laden with bundles of saltrice. The Dunmer farmer on the wagon coaxed the beast along while a little girl who might've been his daughter sat amidst the produce, cradling a many-legged scrib in her skinny arms.

Daria could just throw the ring into the Odai. Say she lost it.

Except she doubted it'd be that easy. The guild would track it, she was sure. With that realization she resumed her walk into Labor Town. The northern side was not much different from the southern one, still a warren of narrow streets running between adobe blocks stacked two or three stories high. The sounds of industry were constant: foremen calling orders, hammers striking anvils and butcher knives striking wood, the smoke of furnaces soiling the sour smell of kwama meat.

Daria followed the directions to a meandering back alley at the edge of Labor Town, where the ground sloped up to the rocky hills north and east of Balmora. Patches of dirt showed through the crumbling flagstones. The only person there was an old bald Imperial sitting on a crate at the end of the alley. Gray smoke coiled out from a wooden pipe in his hand.

If something bad did happen, there wouldn't be many people around to make a fuss.

The second house on the right was Johanna's, according to the directions. Weathered and run-down, the place looked like any other Labor Town home. Daria stepped up to the window, remembering Hetheria's suggestion of just sticking her hand inside. Johanna had repurposed a hide tarp as a curtain, blocking Daria's view of the interior.

She sniffed as she neared, noticing a damp and earthy small around the house. Like fungus, she thought, which wasn't exactly unusual in Morrowind.

"Help!" wheezed a woman's voice, faint but forceful.

Daria froze. Heart pounding, she looked around. No one was there.

"Is this when the stress-induced hallucinations kick in?" Daria said out loud.

"Help!"

No doubt about it: the voice came from inside Johanna's house. Daria realized she could leave, wash her hands of the mess. If Johanna died the guild would be fine with it. The woman was probably just another poor outlander who'd drifted to Morrowind, far from home and half-forgotten by her family. No one in Balmora would know or care.

Daria remembered Synda's mocking voice and the pain of clubs and fists. She remembered Hetheria's casual cruelty that day, borne by her social connections.

Screw them!

She ran to Johanna's front door and opened it. Carnage awaited her inside. An obese woman lay slumped against the wall, blood pumping from a wound on her neck and running down her body. More blood was spattered on the walls, on the rugs, and on the caps of the brown mushrooms growing in planters placed along the shelves.

Daria almost ran out again. The woman raised a shaking left arm, fingers outstretched.

"Bastard stuck me!" she gasped.

Daria did know a bit of restoration magic, but it had been years since she'd cast a spell. Mouth dry, she stepped over the bloody trail and hoped she still knew how to do this. A second body lay deeper in the house, a Dunmer. No movement from this one, nor would there ever be. A white sheen of ice covered his face, his right hand still gripping a bloody dagger.

Killing frost on a spring afternoon. Johanna was definitely a mage.

More importantly, she was dying.

"I might be able to heal you," Daria said, her voice sounding far away.

She knelt next to Johanna and focused, thinking of the light of Aetherius as Vandries had taught her all those years ago.

Draw out the current of magic, place it within the formula, she thought. And the formula for healing is—

The spell fizzled out at her fingertips in a burst of white-blue light.

"Dammit," she uttered.

"Get that green bottle over there!" Johanna pointed to a nearby shelf packed with clay vessels. The woman tried again to move, only for more blood to seep out.

Grateful for the direction, Daria obeyed. She grabbed the bottle and ran back to Johanna's side. It uncorked easily and she guided it to Johanna's lips. The woman drank the potion and shuddered as her wounded skin stitched itself together. Some of the color returned to her craggy cheeks.

"Thanks, girl," Johanna said. "I really appreciate that."

"Uh, yeah."

A good deed had been done. Maybe. But if anything, she was in deeper trouble than before.

"Now maybe you can tell me what you're doing here," Johanna said.

Johanna seemed remarkably self-possessed for a woman who'd been near death a few moments ago. She looked like a mountain somehow given life, her eyes dark gemstones within a face that might've been carved from rock.

Daria suspected that she wouldn't respond well to meekness.

"Saving your life, obviously," Daria said, trying to sound as blasé as possible while thinking of an escape route. She stood up. Easier to run to the door that way.

"You just go around saving people's lives?"

"I try to fit it into my busy schedule of slaying dragons and rescuing princesses from questionable marriages."

It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like Johanna smiled. "Nice act. But enough of that. Why are you here? Well-dressed little Imperial gal, folks rich enough to buy her glasses? Labor Town's no place for you."

"Yeah, well you're the one who just got stabbed, not me." It took a moment for Daria to realize how brazen she sounded.

Johanna chuckled. "You don't scare easy. The guild sent you, didn't they?"

Daria hesitated. Her eyes strayed to the corpse. That might be her in a few seconds.

This would be a bad time to faint, she thought.

"Don't you fret," Johanna said. "That frozen fella over there wasn't from the guild. Not their style. He's just a criminal. I killed him because he tried to kill me."

"And came pretty close," Daria said.

Johanna scowled that time. "Don't push your luck, girl!"

Now, the fateful moment: admit the truth, or try to lie? Daria's counterfeiting ability didn't extend to verbal falsehood. And somehow, she suspected Johanna would figure out the truth one way or another.

Daria noted Johanna flexing the fingers of her left hand, as if prepping a spell. Escape might not be an option.

"First, I don't want to be here. I'm only here because a corrupt noble in the guild twisted my arm and made me go. Second, I have no loyalty to the guild at this point, so I'm perfectly happy to head back home and lie to them about what happened here."

"Yeah?"

"They gave me this ring to see how much residual magic you have in your home. I won't use it, but if I don't come back they'll send someone else."

"Hmm. Let me see that."

Knowing she had little choice, Daria took off the ring and handed it to Johanna. The woman chanted something under her breath.

"Hand me the blue soul gem up there on the shelf, the one between the sadrith saplings," Johanna said.

Daria found it hiding amidst sadrith fungus' growth. She gave it to Johanna, who chanted again and waved her hands. The gem crumbled into dust and the ring glowed briefly.

"There you go," she said, handing it back to Daria. "Fixed this ring to give a false reading."

"Thanks. On that case, I guess I'll be going."

"Probably for the best. What's your name?"

She hesitated for a moment before saying: "Daria".

"Sorry to be so suspicious. I owe you one. I don't forget a debt."

"Sure. Anytime."

Daria kept her panic attack at bay until she'd reached a healthy distance. Then she leaned against the side of an anonymous house, shaking and taking in deep gulps of air until her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. She stood there a while longer, covered in sweat and taking in the little sensory details that let her know she still lived.

Mrs. Johannsen (Johanna) - Mrs. Johannsen is a minor recurring character in the show. She's not a very funny one, honestly, mostly being a joke at the expense of the overweight. I tried to do something more interesting with her here.

Bald Imperial Smoking a Pipe (Caius Cosades) - Yup, that's supposed to be Caius sitting there. Daria's very close to his house.

[Acadian]

What an unexpected turn of events!

I’m glad Daria made the choices she did during this episode, both in helping Johanna and being truthful. And in turn, Johanna’s cooperation might well allow Daria to complete her task while freeing Johanna from guild harassment. Finally, having someone who seems to be a powerful mage beholden to Daria can’t be a bad thing either.

[SubRosa]

If Dara threw the ring in the river, then the next Mages Guild applicant would be sent to retrieve it in return for a letter of recommendation to the Arcane University...

I was trying to follow Daria on The Map of Balmora, and I think I found an oopsie. In the text you have Johanna as JH, but I think she is on the map as J, in the upper right corner. And Jodie is listed in the text as just J, but I think her house is JA in the upper left corner.

Yikes! I was not expecting to find that Johanna had been assaulted!

"I try to fit it into my busy schedule of slaying dragons and rescuing princesses from questionable marriages."
Now there is that trademark Daria sarcasm.

I really liked what you did with Johanna, inserting her into the story with a good role, rather than just using her as the butt of fat people jokes *sigh* like in the TV show.

[Renee]

Phew, I've fallen way behind. Yikes, four new posts! I'll try to catch up (ha, Lena Wolf has heard me say that before). I'll try to read a couple new chapters, at least.

Chapter 2: Oh gosh... "I'm not saying the guild isn't corrupt," Jane continued, letting her hands fall, "but at least they keep Great House Telvanni's wizards restricted to their weird little corner of Morrowind. I can put up with some corruption if it means not having to worry about a Telvanni lord deciding I'd be a good experimental subject."

The laughter starts.

Oh cool. Daria's about to try joining the Mages. Let's see if she meets their requirements. Ha. Looks like she's in.

The "candle which gives off no heat" seems to be using the same magic as the gigantic fire pits in Skyrim's inns which do nothing if we step into them by accident. So now I can explain in RP terms why those pits don't burn our characters to a crisp.

Chapter 3: Sonic Youth, nice!!! Gotta get my headphones. Wow, never heard Sunday before. Pretty sure my brother was once in a band which opened for SN.

That's a good point. Outlanders do fit right into the Imperial guilds. Again, it's something I never really thought about, but it's very true.

"Like any good counterfeiter, I take pride in professionalism."

Nice. And good that she got paid, even though it's not in the fashion wanted by her madre.

This post has been edited by Renee: Jun 9 2022, 07:22 PM

[WellTemperedClavier]

@ Acadian - Daria definitely made the right call(s).

@ SubRosa - Nah, retrieving the ring would just be the first tedious step in a long string of them, all required to get so much as a recommendation letter.

Good catch on the map! Unfortunately, I think I'll have to renew my Inkarnate account to fix that. Sorry for the mix-up.

Daria's my favorite show, but there's no denying that it was very much a product of its time, and not always in the best ways. I try to address those issues a bit better in my own fanwork. Plus, Mrs. Johannsen is pretty boring on her own, so I almost can't resist doing something more interesting with her.

@ Renee - Thanks for reading! I actually never thought about that for Skyrim, but you do bring up a good point. Just how common is magic? If it's frequent enough, it starts to take the place of modern convenience. There's actually a good AD&D campaign setting called Eberron which revolves around that. Basically, there's tons of magic and magical items, which means the overall lifestyle is more like the 1920s than the 1220s. But I digress.

Writing this, I did want to focus heavily on how life would be for regular people. So yeah, elements like where outlanders would or wouldn't fit in were very much on my mind.

Episode 5: The Guilded Age

Chapter 6

"So everything went smoothly with Johanna? And the ring?"

Hetheria's breath reeked of booze, though she otherwise seemed sober.

"No trouble at all. I just knocked on the door and pretended to be raising funds for the Imperial Cult."

Hetheria laughed. "Did she slam the door in your face? 'Cause that's what I'd have done!"

More than anything, she wanted to slap Hetheria. Daria had seen death before. She remembered the first time, a pale and bloated fisherman's corpse that had washed up on the beach when she was about three or four years old. Drowning, dad had said. Deliberate death was new to her, however. The dead Dunmer's frozen face would be another memory she'd never totally escape.

"Not before I was able to take a reading." She handed the ring over to Hetheria.

Daria had gone to the local Tribunal temple before coming back. Jane had told her that the temple ran an enchantment service, mostly to bless items with healing magic. Being under the Tribunal protected the priests from guild interference. Daria had asked them to check the ring because she knew better than to trust Johanna. Who knew what kind of enchantment she'd actually put on the ring? For that matter, how good a job had Johanna done? Daria wanted to be sure that neither Hetheria nor Athrys would find out about the deception.

Fortunately, the Dunmer enchanter at the temple had said nothing was out of the ordinary. So far as he could tell, it was a ring designed to detect other enchanted items, had been used exactly once, and had not found any signs of arcane usage.

She hoped he knew what he was talking about.

"Thanks!" Hetheria said. "See, that wasn't so hard was it?"

"Maybe not hard, but I don't enjoy being used like that."

"Well, get used to it. That's how guilds operate."

That was all Daria needed. "Which is why I quit," she said, standing up.

She knew she'd made the right choice as soon as she spoke. Hetheria's startled expression was simply an extra reward.



*********



Daria didn't tell mom the whole truth. Instead, she said that the guild had stuck her in a dark room to do busywork and that she'd quit before having any more of her time wasted.

Mom didn't get as angry as she would have if she'd learned the whole sordid story. But she definitely did get angry.

The ringing in Daria's ears had not yet subsided by dusk. She sat on the tiny balcony space outside of her room, watching the sun fade into the west. It was still mid-afternoon back home in Stirk, where the sails of docked ships rippled in a cool ocean breeze.

Daria heard footsteps, followed by the door opening and closing. She sensed her mother's presence next to her.

"Lovely evening, isn't it," mom said, her voice subdued.

"Perfect for platitudes." Daria didn't really want to talk to her. Except she did. She wanted to explain what really happened.

Maybe that way mom would understand how hard it was to network in this place.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier. I shouldn't have."

Daria shrugged and made a noncommittal sound, pretending to be very interested in the empty roof next door.

"You know, the Mages Guild might take you back if you wait a while."

"I'm not going back there," Daria said.

"Hm. I had a feeling you'd say that. And you don't have to go back. But where are you going to go?"

"I was thinking about this," Daria said. "Jane gets by as an artist. I could do something similar as a freelance scribe or writer."

"Jane barely gets by."

Daria turned to look at her mother, annoyed. "How can you say that?"

"I'm not criticizing her. She works very hard. Her life isn't an easy one, however."

"So? I'm not afraid of some hard work," Daria protested. And at least as a freelancer she wouldn't have to deal with a bunch of annoying coworkers.

"Freelancers have to do busywork, too. Not to mention network with clients. Being part of a guild, on the other hand, creates opportunities and gives direction. Spend enough time there and you can get a secure job that offers flexibility and respect. I suppose you could try joining Hlaalu. There are a few high-ranking outlanders there. But I don't imagine you'd enjoy their company."

"I wouldn't. All of the factions here just want you to play their endless games of social one-upmanship and networking. It's like Morrowind was made for Quinn."

"It is what it is, Daria. You need to find a way to survive and contribute. I can offer suggestions, but I can't decide for you. You'll need to think about how you want to make your way in the world."

Mom turned around and headed back into the house. Night had almost fallen, and the stars smoldered in the sun's final rays.



*********



Daria woke up before the rest of the family. No need to be in Drenlyn that day, which meant she'd help out at mom's office.

But she had something else she needed to do first.

The damp and gray morning promised rain, so Daria donned her new bug-shell hat. She spent a few minutes balancing the oversized green shell, finally tying together the chin strap to keep it in place.

She retraced her steps back to Labor Town. Thick and scattered raindrops splashed against the flagstones once she crossed the Odai and picked up in intensity the deeper in Labor Town she got. The morning crowds bent their heads under the lashing rain. Water splashed onto her dress and rain soaked her sleeves, but the hat kept her head dry. Thunder rumbled from beyond the rocky hills to the east.

Daria walked to Johanna's door but hesitated before knocking. It might be better to leave well enough alone. Who could say how Johanna might react to seeing her again?

The door opened, revealing a smiling Johanna who looked much recovered after the other day's incident.

"Well! I didn't expect to see you here again! Come on in."

"Thanks."

Johanna's house didn't look all that remarkable when viewed through calm eyes. Just another modest Labor Town home with rough wooden furniture and threadbare rugs, all conveniently void of bloodstains. The corpse was long gone, and Daria decided not to ask how Johanna had disposed of it.

"You can take off that hat if you want," Johanna said. She walked over to an enormous wooden stool and settled down on it.

Daria marveled at the immensity of Johanna's arms, which looked heavy enough to break through the wall if she applied any real force.

"That's okay," Daria said. "I'm not going to spend much time here. I came here to let you know that the plan worked. The guild doesn't think you use magic."

"That's awfully considerate of you."

"Don't get too excited," Daria warned. "They could still be investigating you. But I quit the guild, so it's not my problem anymore."

"Doesn't surprise me. Bright young thing like you doesn't need what they have to offer, no ma'am."

"I'm not sure it was that bright of me to quit," Daria admitted, "but it's already done." She took a deep breath. "I've been trying to figure out why you're selling magical services from outside the guild."

Johanna chuckled. "Well you worked there. You think I want to deal with that nonsense?"

"I'm sure that nonsense can't be worse than dodging guild surveillance. Maybe you're just too cheap to pay the dues, but given how you killed your assailant with magic the other day, I'd say you're skilled enough to earn decent money. Which leaves one other option."

Her rocky face broke into a self-satisfied smile. "You are a clever one. Say it."

"You're with Great House Telvanni."

"And proud of it! Of course, I'm sure you ain't dumb enough to tell anyone else that."

"I know enough to keep my head on my shoulders," Daria said. "I've heard the Telvanni are pretty xenophobic toward non-Dunmer. Why would they accept a human like you?"

Or like me, she thought.

"Xenophobic? Oh, come on, girl, you should know better than to listen to what the Hlaalu say! Sure, there were some Telvanni Dunmer who called me outlander and n'wah when I started out." She grinned. "Not too many of them are still breathing!"

Johanna raised her head and laughed, the sound booming in the enclosed space. Her body still shook with mirth as she quieted down, her face red.

"The Telvanni respect talent and power. It's not like here where you have to make nice with every spoiled noble's son," she said.

"That does sound pretty tempting," Daria said.

"Are you interested?" Johanna's expression turned serious. "It's a lifetime commitment. Your magic skills aren't up to snuff, so you'll have to do a lot of work on those—a lot more than you'd have to do at the guild. But I think you'll learn quick. Maybe I can teach you a few tricks. You won't have to deal with Imperial red tape, neither!"

"Except Telvanni lands are still under Imperial jurisdiction," Daria said.

"Don't be naïve, girl. Sure, the wizard lords bowed their heads to the emperor, but he holds no real power in our lands. We're too far away. And the Empire's grip gets weaker by the day."

It might be true. It might not.

Johanna kept going. "When you're Telvanni, you're free. You can do whatever you want as long as you have the smarts and strength to back it up. You have the smarts—I can tell—and you'll get stronger. Survive long enough and you can grow your own sadrith tower and tell the world to go to hell. You'll be free from nobles, free from guilds. Free from gods!"

The hair on the back of Daria's neck stood up. Johanna hadn't been joking about that last bit. Scary, but it sounded like Daria. No social niceties, just the pursuit of her passions.

She imagined her own domain in the fungal wastelands of the east, one forged through her intelligence and unmarred by nepotism or networking.

Then she thought back to her conversation with Jane the previous week, the disgust her friend had shown in regards to the Telvanni lords.

"Free to use annoying people as test subjects for arcane experiments?" Daria asked.

"If that's what you're into, sure." Johanna sounded like a salesman.

And what if Daria was that annoying person to someone else? What if Hetheria had simply had the power to obliterate her for disobedience?

"Well, thanks," Daria said. "But I'm not sure I'm at the point in my life where I'm comfortable making that decision."

Johanna held up a hand. "Joining a great house is a big choice and you don't want to make it before you're ready. Now, I can't stay in Balmora much longer, but I do owe you a favor and I take that sort of thing seriously. So if you ever find yourself in Sadrith Mora, ask for me. I got a place where you can stay and can help you meet some interesting people. The offer to join Great House Telvanni is open as long as I'm around."

"Thank you. Truly. But I should get back to my parents."

"All right then. Thanks for paying me a visit. Take care now, you hear?"

Daria emerged into the driving rain, the drops drumming on her hat. She'd never join the Telvanni, she knew. But it'd be unwise of her to burn any more bridges.

Hungry for breakfast, she set off for home.

Musical Outro - The Ladies of the Woods, The Witcher 3 OST

The End

To be continued in Episode 6: The Artist's I

[SubRosa]

Hetheria is just so very dislikeable. Though granted, she does not know about the dead burglar.

Wow, Daria was face to face with death in all its ugliness at a very early age. I had a lot of grand parents and grant aunts and uncles die when I was a child. But seeing them dead in their coffins was different. They were all serene and made up to look nice, like they were sleeping. Even though I knew better. A dead body that just washed up on the beach is a lot different. Poor Daria.

Daria is going back to Johanna? Is she going to join House Telvanni? Well, they are a bunch of lunatics and misanthropes. She might fit in there. If she does not mind the slavery, and murder, and other things...

I think she made the right choice in not joining Telvanni.

[Acadian]

Poor Daria, encountering a corpse at such a young age.

Prudent to check out that ring with the temple’s enchanter before surrendering it and announcing her findings.

I wanted to cheer for Daria when she announced, “I quit”. I wonder if this was just a corrupt guild branch or if the entire guild is similarly tarnished in Daria’s world.

I kind of wish Daria had told her mother the truth during her second, more subdued chat with her. If would be nice if her mother new the whole story and why Daria quit.

I chuckle every time I try to envision Daria in her bug-shell green hat.

Johanna makes an interesting case for the Telvanni but I’m pleased Daria told herself that joining them was not going to happen.

[WellTemperedClavier]

@ SubRosa - Hetheria's pretty nasty. Her show counterpart, while kind of lazy and spoiled, wasn't nearly as bad.

I figure that, even though healing magic is pretty common, the average person on Tamriel would be a lot more familiar with seeing death than would, say, the average person in the developed parts of Earth. This is particularly the case in the USA, where there's kind of a cultural denial of death. Death's something that we try to hide away in hospitals as best we can.

Seeing the drowned body was definitely troubling for Daria. But it's probably not that unusual an experience in Tamriel. People die. It's part of life.

I don't think Daria would survive for long in Telvanni. They're particularly dangerous for her, since there's just enough that she might initially find it appealing, only to find that it's far crueler and more violent than she's able to withstand. Fortunately, her natural caution and the wisdom she gleaned from her recent experiences steered her clear.

For what it's worth, the only great houses I can see her surviving in are Hlaalu and Redoran. I doubt she'd be happy in Hlaalu, but she might do okay in a lower or mid-rung position. She lacks the right skills to get far in Redoran, but she could help them with organization or finances--both things they struggle with. While that won't earn her much respect, it'd probably be a reasonably secure position.

Indoril's as bad as Telvanni, and Dres is somehow even worse, so those are both out.

@ Acadian - Yup. Though as I mentioned in the earlier comment to SubRosa, it's probably not an uncommon occurrence in Tamriel.

I wondered if I was overthinking in having Daria get the ring checked. But it does seem like something she'd do.

Broadly speaking, the guilds are all somewhat corrupt. But a lot does boil down to what goes on in the individual offices. Some are pretty clean and straightforward, others are crooked. Balmora's Mages Guild... isn't great. The Fighters Guild is actually way worse.

Part of Daria probably wanted to tell her mother as well. But for now, this is one of the many secrets she keeps during her time in Morrowind.

Episode 6: The Artist's I

Moonmoth Legion Fort didn't belong.

It proclaimed this fact in the artificiality of its construction. No adobe or insect shells, just massive blocks of stone piled one on top of the other. This being the Empire, one could be sure someone in charge—probably multiple someones—possessed reams of paperwork documenting every stone, tracing each from its origin within a particular pit within a particular quarry, its shaping beneath the chisels and calloused hands of foreign masons, its long journey by guar- or ox-pulled wagon, its time spent in storage, the name of the foreman who oversaw its placement within a particular wall or tower, and how well it held up to the rain and wind and ash over the intervening years. The fort implied a world set in clear and explicit rules, displayed for all to see so long as all were willing to take the time.

Moonmoth Legion Fort didn't belong. But that was okay. Jane didn't belong either.

Standing between the squat entry towers, strange in their angular rigidity, Jane looked back over her shoulder. No sign of Balmora, its towers and plazas behind the barren hills. Moonmoth wasn't that far from the city physically, but it was a whole world away in every other sense. Atop the towers fluttered the Empire's banner, and on that its sigil: a sinuous red dragon in flight but bound and restricted within the straight lines of a larger red lozenge.

"What's your business here, citizen?" the guard inquired, the sun glinting off the rearing horses emblazoned on his cuirass. He had the mindless look of someone bored half to death but too professional to show it.

"Hi, I'm Jane Llayn. Sir Larrius Varro hired me to paint a portrait, so here I am."

"Ah, I remember seeing your name on the schedule." He took a wooden slat and a charcoal pen from his belt, using the latter to mark the former. "In you go. Sir Varro should be in the keep."

"Thanks." Jane walked beneath the jagged teeth of the portcullis set within the arched gate.

The legion was the Empire's heavy hand. Jane found legion troopers to be less objectionable than the Hlaalu guards in the city, who tended to be idiot youngsters wielding weapons and far too eager to use them. Legionnaires were about the same age but with the stupidity trained out of them. Most of the time.

Plus, if worse came to worst, it'd be the legion that protected outlanders like her. They'd protect her the same way they protected an entire continent and all of its teeming kingdoms, tribes, cults, and guilds: by sword-point and on their terms, no questions asked. But it was better than nothing.

She found Varro at his desk within the keep. He looked how she'd imagined a life-time Imperial soldier would look: uniform perfectly arranged, his frame lean and tough, not an ounce of excess flab daring to distort his rugged features. They exchanged pleasantries, his responses polite and economic. She confirmed his expectations: a head-and-shoulders portrait at three-quarters view. Legion commissions usually went full-length and full face, which meant Varro probably intended this portrait for personal use.

He sat for her at the top floor of the keep, in an unadorned stone room where sunlight shone through the narrow window slits. Jane set up her easel and canvas as she studied her client. Most of her clients were outlanders like her.

That meant they wanted to be painted in Imperial style. Trick was, that meant different things to different people.

Varro was an Imperial from the Colovian west, trained in the harsh ways of war and discipline. A client like him would be offended if she elided a wart or a scar. The Colovian Imperials took pride in presenting themselves as the eye saw them. Daria had probably fit in there better than she'd been willing to admit. And Quinn already looked perfect without embellishment.

When painting Varro, Jane was no longer Jane. She imagined herself as nothing more than a disembodied pair of eyes and hands, reproducing exactly what she saw in the physical realm. Varro existed in three dimensions, so she incorporated the vanishing point, and the interplay of light and shadow to show the furrows of his brow, the gauntness of his cheeks, and the straight line of his mouth. She counted each detail, just like the Empire counted stones for its forts.

She finished as the light waned, adding her signature in the lower right-hand corner. Jane returned, her body providing connecting tissue for the eyes and hands that the Empire, through Varro, had hired. She showed him the work and he nodded. Something that might have been a smile crossed his lips.

"Good work," he said. "Tell me: you're Dunmer but you bear an Imperial given name. Are you from Morrowind?"

"Actually, I was born in the Imperial City. Wasn't there for long, though."

"Ah, so the natives still see you as a foreigner. Is life good for you in Balmora?"

Jane thought a bit before answering. Why did people like Varro think anyone felt safe answering such questions honestly? "It's home. With all the good and bad it brings."

"Do the native Dunmer ever hire you?"

"Usually it's humans or other Mer. Got an Argonian client, once."

"Why don't you move to Pelagiad? Everyone there was born outside of this bleak land, the way you were, so you'd have no shortage of clients."

She knew the place. A little Imperial charter town nestled in the green hills of the Ascadian Isles, a few days to the south. A safe and cheery place where nothing much happened, where the bright streets and tidy farm plots gave no place for the imagination to hide.

Best to deflect.

"Pelagiad's a little rich for my taste. Maybe when I get more money," she said.

"Nonsense! Marry some jolly old sergeant who's just turned in his commission. You can live off his pension while you get more clients. And when he's dead and gone, well you're a Mer, so you'll be in the prime of your life. Marry for love the second time, when you can afford to."

Varro's advice sounded more like misguided paternalism than a come-on. But she didn't want to play along any further. "Maybe someday. I get a lot of business in Balmora, actually."

"True. Most of the business is in the big cities. Just be careful. It's not always a friendly place for citizens like us."

She faked a chuckle. "Don't worry. I was born far away, but I'm still Dunmer. I blend in."

Which was a lie. But one that would satisfy him.



*********



She spent the night curled up in a cot placed in a small but surprisingly cozy basement cell. The next morning, she ran into Maiko, the Redguard soldier she'd met at the Talori party. He procured some breakfast for her: thick saltrice porridge and thin wine.

"Varro's all right," Maiko said. "Sometimes he gets a little nosy."

"I didn't know you legion types were allowed to speak your mind like that," Jane said, raising an eyebrow.

"You can say what you want here. You just have to be smart about when and where you do it."

"Hmm. He seemed worried about Balmora. Is there anything I should know?" Jane asked.

"That's 'cause worrying about Balmora is literally Varro's job."

"Are you worried about it?"

Maiko shook his head. "Nah, not really. It's got problems, but I've seen worse. I used to be stationed in Taurus Hall, out in the Reach. That place was way more tense."

With that done, she walked back home to Balmora, the pleasing weight of a full coin purse added to her pack.

Jane got back in the early afternoon and rested for the remainder of the day. She thought about visiting Daria, but the long trek had tired her and she had more work tomorrow. Work she wouldn't get paid for but still needed to do.

She arose early the next day and reached the temple as the sun rose behind Red Mountain's smoky veil. Walking through the door returned her to darkness, the anteroom's rounded corners and uneven surfaces much like the adobe homes that the Dunmer had lived in for centuries. Dunmer homes were extensions of the land, mixed from mud and water and ash. It would not take much for that land to reclaim them.

Morrowind was not a forgiving place.

Feldrelo Sadri, the priestess and master of the Balmora temple, stood with bowed head before a tapestry woven with sacred words. She turned slowly at Jane's arrival. Feldrelo was a Dunmer woman whose skin was light almost to the point of translucence. Her gaunt and careworn face seemed pulled back by her tightly wound bun of black hair, and her eyes bulged slightly as if from trying to see in her dark home. Her blue robes and gilded vestments conveyed authority but not luxury.

"I am here to offer my services," Jane said as she lowered her gaze, adopting the formality the temple expected. Insincere formality—she knew it, and the temple certainly knew it as well—but they appreciated the effort.

"Of course, child," Feldrelo said, her voice dry like old bones. "Please, come to my office. Your concerns are mine."

Jane hesitated. She could lie and say she had other work later that day and needed to get started. But while Imperials loved to finish tasks and move on, Dunmer preferred to dawdle. Not to say that Jane disliked dawdling, but she'd rather do it at a cornerclub or in her room.

So she followed Feldrelo, who'd already started her slow and shuffling walk to an adjoining room. A pot of tea steamed on her desk. The starchy smell confirmed it as brewed from a spiky trama root.

A polite interrogation followed. It started with praise of Jane's intermittent temple attendance that also stressed her more frequent absences. Then questions about her family. Jane tried to find a way of admitting she had no idea about them (other than Trent) while still sounding like a good Dunmer daughter. Then some talk about the saint-scrolls she'd made for the temple in the past, and how those indicated a piety that she really ought to express by being more involved in matters of faith.

"The Tribunal Temple is your home, Jane. Though you were not born in Morrowind, our blood does flow through your veins," Feldrelo said, pouring herself another cup of now-cold trama root tea.

"And I feel that, Muthsera Sadri. Absolutely." And thanks for reminding me about not being born here, she thought. "That's why I'm here. To show my respect. Just give me the word and I'll start—"

Feldrelo clucked and shook her head. "You still behave like an Imperial. I fear Balmora is probably the worst place for someone like you. Great House Hlaalu cavorts with the Empire, adopting its thoughtless ways. Perhaps you should go instead to Ald'ruhn, or even Vivec City. Yes, Vivec City would be a good place, I think. I can sign a petition so that you'd be able to live somewhere other than the Foreign Canton."

"I am honored. But..." Jane trailed off, trying to think of an excuse. Imperials usually understood when you weren't interested. Because in the end, they were too self-absorbed to pester you more than necessary. Dunmer didn't get that. They never stopped. "Balmora is my family's home. And even though we don't have the old house anymore, my brother and I still have to take care of things until dad gets back."

In the unlikely event that he did.

"Let your brother stay. He has given himself to the ways of the outlander."

"He has," Jane sighed, trying to sound sad. "But he's still kin. And I'm a little worried what might happen if I'm not looking out for him. He's picked up some bad habits."

Some of which she partook in and enjoyed.

"You are truly a Dunmer," Feldrelo said. "Our people are a family gathered around a flickering hearth, a lone warmth in the endless ashen night. You understand that. How sad a sign of these times that an outlander like you would know what so many natives ignore."

Finally, Feldrelo led Jane to a hallway deeper in the temple. Jane had no idea how much time had passed in the woman's office. Thoughts of day and night had vanished, replaced only by the fire of flickering braziers and the shadows that danced about them. It might be evening for all she knew. No, no way they'd been there that long. Probably just late morning.

Her workspace was a bench placed before a blank adobe wall. A big pot of black paint, sanctified with ground beetle shells and dust from Necrom's holy corpses, waited for her brush.

"I will leave you here to work."

Work, in this case, meant a painting of St. Delyn the Wise done in the traditional Dunmer style. Not really for piety's sake, she knew. Like so much else, it was for show. Because if she did need Dunmer patrons one day, it'd look good for her to have done some temple work. Because if worse came to worst and the legion bugged out, she needed to show she could be part of the community.

And maybe because, for all its faults and xenophobia, the Tribunal Temple had fed her and Trent in the lean years after they lost the house. Before J'dash took them in. Hunger deepened gratitude.

Imperials saw the world for what it was in form. But the Dunmer world consisted of saints and gods and spirits.

When painting St. Delyn, Jane was no longer Jane. She instead became the Dunmer people, driven by faith across ash and salt. What St. Delyn looked like didn't matter. What mattered was what he represented: law, wisdom, and benevolence.

Her strokes were thick and bold, following the patterns of long-dead masters. Abstract on their own, they took shape only in aggregate. Robed St. Delyn soon stood tall with an open book at his feet, uncompromisingly two-dimensional. Imperial art privileged the viewer and the naked eye. Dunmer art privileged history and ritual.

She could do this blind. And she was sure some Dunmer artists had done just that. Temples were never very well-lit, and her vision already strained from the effort. But who needed eyes for this art? Muscle memory—perhaps ancestral memory—guided her hands. This image of St. Delyn was like all others, and it would take supreme arrogance for any artist to make a saint—whom all believers served—their own.

Was she a believer? Jane didn't know. Sometimes. And painting a saint was one of those times.

Jane returned, standing in the present day, in the Third Era and 424th Year of the Imperial Calendar. The wall now proclaimed St. Delyn's glory. No signature this time. She'd just have to trust that Sadri would acknowledge her work and, if asked, mention it to others.

Exhausted, and quite certain it was late in the night, Jane went in search of Muthsera Sadri to report that she'd finished.



*********



Jane tried not to slack too often. Laziness was a bad habit, one she enjoyed but could not often afford. She'd earned it this time, though. Varro had paid a tidy sum, and the temple work was a nice addition to her portfolio. At least the temple had paid for her materials.

Thus she spent the next day idling in the Lucky Lockup with Daria, the Empire and Tribunal Temple both feeling reassuringly distant and absurd. Later on they returned to Jane's apartment. Stretched out on the balcony, the sun bright and warm, Daria took out the book she'd brought while Jane sketched on a piece of paper.

She drew without thinking, translating the harsh angles of Moonmoth Legion Fort and the equally strict curves of the temple into new shapes, spiraling around a slender figure curled up in a fetal position, bound by what was around her but still apart from it. Unique, vibrant, and her own.

When painting her own work, Jane was only Jane.

Musical Outro - Cemetry Gates, by The Smiths

The End

To be continued in Episode 7: The Pilgrim's Inertia



Larrius Varro - Varro is a high-ranking officer in Legion Fort Moonmoth. Those who've played the game will know that he's unusually proactive for a Legion officer. Whether that's a good or a bad thing, I leave up to you.

Feldrelo Sadri - Not much to say about her really, but she does run the Balmora Temple in-game. I presented her as caring but also pretty condescending and bigoted.

Taurus Hall and The Reach - The Reach is the southwestern part of Skyrim. A land of craggy mesas and thick forests, it was the site of the War of Bend'r Mahk, between the Nords and the Redguard (with Reachmen and Orcs caught in between), during the Imperial Simulacrum Crisis. The Nords won, but the peace has been uneasy at best. This story uses the version of the lore presented in Project Tamriel, in which Taurus Hall is a lonely fort by the divided city of Dragonstar (link goes to a trailer for the Dragonstar release).

St. Delyn - One of the Dunmer saints, associated with wisdom.

I should also note that some of the inspiration for this story, specifically in how it explored art and cultural differences, came from the novel My Name is Red, by Orhan Pamuk. This novel examined the differences between Western and Islamic art in the context of a murder mystery in 16th century Istanbul. It's a dense and, at times, pretty disturbing book, but it really left an impact on me. Pamuk himself is Turkish, though he moved to the United States because he got in trouble in Turkey for acknowledging the Armenian genocide.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Jun 15 2022, 05:26 PM

[Acadian]

A neat interlude from Jane’s perspective.

I found myself rather liking Varro. Straightforward, professional and, it seems, interested in trying to help others.

Feldrelo was quite the contrast to Varro and provided a great ‘other half’ to compare aspects of Imperial and Dunmeri culture.

Finally, the episode artfully went full circle as Jane ‘became’ Imperial while painting Varro, Dunmer while painting St Delyn and simply Jane when doing her own work.