Outlanders (Morrowind Crossover) Options

[SubRosa]

The ripples of Quinn’s well-meaning but poor decision continue as Jeval’s in danger and now, Daria charges in. At least she tries and tries and finally succeeds in some magic enhancement for the task.

Now that I think of it, this is like mining disasters where they run into a no-oxygen zone, and the people just fall over, and begin to die of suffocation. More people run in to save them, and they keel over. Then more people, and more people, etc...

[WellTemperedClavier]

@SubRosa - The side story that I wrote about Jeval (and will post later) actually goes into a little more detail as to what's going on with Tiphannia.

Putting out fires would be a lot trickier without easy access to water or other extinguishers. While the Morgendorffers are wealthy enough to have indoor plumbing, they don't have a garden hose.

Thanks! Yeah, this was the big climax. Daria showing what she's learned and in so doing, saving her sister.

The epilogue will cover Synda's future (and she does appear again in Chapter 8 of this episode, albeit briefly).

@Acadian - Quinn had grown up enough to realize the importance of her mother's papers, but not enough to realize that her mom would be way more concerned about her than some dumb papers!

Obviously it's a very, very bad idea to rush into a burning building IRL unless you're a trained firefighter. I'm hoping that Daria literally had to use magic (and still needed to be bailed by her friends) helps emphasize this.

Episode 31: Bad Day in Balmora

Chapter 7

Daria awoke to the sensation of someone prodding her face. She raised her hand to ward it off as she opened her eyes to sunlight dimmed by smoke.

“Hey, you’re awake!” came Jane’s voice.

“Where’s Quinn?” Daria said, or tried to. All that came out was a hoarse, phlegmatic hack that ended in a sputtering wheeze.

“Quinn’s fine, and so’s Jeval. You’re a real hero.”

Daria’s vision finally returned to focus. She‘d been propped up against another building. The air reeked of smoke along with a new smell that reminded her of a recently doused campfire.

“Your house, unfortunately, isn’t in such great shape.”

“What happened?” Daria managed to croak.

“The Mages Guild came by not long after we pulled you out, and used some kind of magic to dump a small river's worth of water onto your house. Guess they’re doing that all over town, now. Seems like the protest’s mostly finished. Hlaalu wins again,” Jane said.

“Can I talk to Quinn?”

“Daria!”

Daria coughed as Quinn threw her arms around her. Quinn fell into a coughing fit of her own right after. Once done, they stared at each other’s sooty and exhausted faces and both breathed a sigh of relief.

“We were so worried!” Quinn said, hugging her, tighter this time.

“It’s been a weird month,” Daria muttered.

She turned her head to check her surroundings. The front of the Morgendorffer house was a ruin. Wispy black smoke spirals still unspooled from the burned husk of the front office, though the rest didn’t seem too badly damaged. Jane had said the mages used water, but Daria saw no puddles or other signs of it. Too tired to try and figure that out, she turned her attention to the others. Jeval and Treads sat on the street, talking to each other, while Satheri and Tiphannia chatted with a girl Daria’s age, whose freckled and bespectacled face wore an expression of intense curiosity.

“Amelia?” Daria uttered.

Hearing her name, Amelia brightened up and hurried over. “Hey! Wow, I was not expecting to run into you today, but I’m relieved you’re okay.”

“I’m not sure my lungs would agree with the ‘okay’ part. What are you doing here?”

She giggled, and then her face turned serious. “The Balmora Mages Guild called in some of the other regional offices for support. I’m only here as an observer, but the senior mages were opening up conduits to Oblivion to get the water they needed for the fires. Most of the fires have been put out, I think.”

Daria nodded. That explained why the water had vanished; it had returned to Oblivion after the spell’s duration.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Hey, it’s part of the job. How have things been? I sent you a letter a month ago.”

“Sorry,” Daria said, coughing again. “I’ve been traveling.”

“That’s so cool! Where to?”

“Vivec,” Jane answered. “She’s got a taste of big city life. I’m Jane, by the way.”

“Oh, Daria's told me so much about you! I’m Amelia. Me and Daria met in Caldera.”

The two shook hands, and Jane smiled. “Welcome to Balmora. We’ve got busy marketplaces, fine drinking establishments, and the occasional bout of civil unrest.”

“It does seem like an… interesting place!”

Tired again, Daria closed her eyes, Quinn’s arms still around her. “You know, Quinn,” she said, “it was kind of stupid to go back in for those papers.”

“I know,” Quinn admitted. “But I felt like I had to do something. All my life I’ve been going on like it’s all about me, and stuff, but managing the Fashion Club—Fashion Guild, someday—made me realize there’s a lot more. I didn’t want mom to be out of a job or disappointed.”

“Mom’s main goal is to make sure you survive to adulthood. Ruthlessly destroying her competition in a court of law is a distant second, though I wouldn’t advise asking her to admit that in public.”

“That’s how she feels about you too, Daria. She’ll be glad you’re back.”

Hearing that made it seem so obvious that Daria wondered how she’d ever believed otherwise.



*********



“It was really brave what you did,” Treads-on-Ferns said.

Jeval felt okay. A little stupid, but otherwise okay. Somehow, his finely tuned Bosmer senses hadn’t been all that finely tuned after all, and he’d gotten turned around and then hit his head on something, so Daria had to drag him out.

Not exactly a heroic moment for him.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“What made you rush in like that?”

Jeval shrugged. “I don’t know. I remember when I hung out with those bozo friends of mine, we’d all talk about being great heroes and stuff. So, I thought I’d go ahead and try. Dumb of me.”

“Maybe a little. Did you want to save Quinn?”

Jeval blushed. “Yeah. I mean…”

He looked over at Quinn, hugging her sister. She was way out of earshot.

“… I still kind of have a thing for her. Maybe I always will. But that’s not why I did it. I’m not trying to make her fall for me or anything. I’d have gone in after any of you.”

He looked at Treads-on-Ferns, the girl who knew his every secret, who’d listened to him all through the long and lonely months.

“Especially you,” he added.

Treads made that hissing sound she made when she was happy about something. “I believe you. You were pretty quick to jump in and help Synda back in the alley, and you don’t even like her.”

“Must be wired that way.”

“The world needs more people wired like you,” Treads said. “But be more careful next time. I got pretty scared when you didn’t come out of that house.”

“Sorry. Hey, you know I’m not going to die on you that easy, right? We’re bros.”

“Wouldn’t I be more of a sister? Or sis?” Treads asked. “Since I’m in a female phase?”

“If that’s what you want, sis,” he said.

“Sounds good for now, bro.”



*********



At least mom and dad were okay.

They came back to the Commercial District right when the last fires in the south stopped burning. Tons of smoke still clogged the early evening air, and each breath tasted awful, but it wouldn’t get any worse that day. Guards patrolled the streets along with some regular people who had weapons. Most were mixed Dunmer and outlander, which made Quinn feel a little better.

Mom and dad lost it when they saw Daria and Quinn together, and there was lots of hugging and crying. Well, not on Daria’s part, but that’s how she was. Quinn could totally tell she was glad to be back.

Not that they didn’t have problems. Quinn walked into the ruined office, where Mom stood next to the little shrine of Julianos she’d kept. She dusted off some of the soot and sighed.

“I can’t believe it all happened so quickly,” mom said.

“I know. But I saved a lot of your papers from the fire! And Satheri got them out of the way of the water.”

“Oh, Quinn!” Mom hugged her again, and Quinn lost herself in the warmth for a moment. “But you knew I had duplicates of the most important documents, didn’t you?”

“You what?” Quinn pushed away, staring at her mom. Had she done all that for nothing?

“Advocates have to be prepared for unforeseen events. I had Marianne copy the key documents and file them over at Moonmoth.”

“Oh no!” Quinn wailed. “So I didn’t—”

Mom cut her off with a hug. “Don’t you ever put yourself in danger like that!”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn sobbed. “I guess... I guess I wasn’t paying attention when you told us about copying them.”

Mom let Quinn go and looked around the devastation.

“How are we going to pay for all this?” Quinn asked, suddenly feeling very small. The day had been so crazy that she hadn’t had time to think about what happened next.

“Well, first, your efforts were by no means a waste. While I had copies of the old case rulings, I did not have copies of the notes for active cases, didn’t have time, you understand. So, you saving them means I can get right back to work, which we’ll need.”

“Oh! I did do the right thing!”

“I still don’t ever want you running into a fire again,” mom warned. “But you helped this family quite a lot. As for the house, the city authorities will send an inspector to assess the damage. The office is a total loss, but the rest of the house seems to be habitable. Lucky for us, it’s Hlaalu Council Company property, so we won’t have to foot the bill. Though I'm sure rent prices will go up to pay for reconstruction.”

That was something. “Where will we stay?”

“I talked to Satheri’s mother, and she said she’ll be happy to have us over until we figure things out. You’ll get to live with your best friend!”

Which meant Satheri could ask Quinn for her opinion of every little thing all day long.

“Yeah. That’s, uh, great,” Quinn made herself say.

“Come on, let’s join the others. There’s not much good we can do here right now.”

A cool breeze rushed through the street when they stepped out. Red Mountain had finally shut up for the time being. She followed mom to where Daria stood with dad and Jane.

“… I’m still working with other clients, Mr. Morgendorffer. Trust me, Serjo Olerlo’s only the first step, not the end-point,” Jane said.

“Now, that’s what I call a hustle!”

They turned to look at mom as she got close. Mom stood a little too straight and stiff, like she was scared but not willing to show it.

“Daria,” mom said, her voice shaking a bit. “I want you to know that, no matter what happened over the past few months, you have a home here. You’ll always be my little girl, no matter what—”

“Don’t worry mom, I’m not pregnant.”

Mom put her hand on her chest and sighed. “Oh, thank heavens!”

“All things considered,” Daria said, “I’m doing reasonably well considering that I ditched an aristocrat boyfriend, hiked across the Ascadian Isles, and slept rough in Vivec.”

“She only slept rough for one night, though,” Jane added.

“Upon reflection, I’ve realized that a lot of the difficulties I’ve faced in the past few years, ranging from my reluctance to engage with the networking that undergirds every aspect of Tamrielic society to my occasional bouts of unpleasantness stem, in part, from me not being open with you about my life.”

“What do you mean?” dad asked.

Daria looked down at the ground like she wasn’t quite ready to say what was on her mind.

“Go ahead, dear,” mom said.

Daria sighed and looked her mom in the eyes. “Do you remember that time Synda tried to trick Quinn into going into the Council Club? That wasn’t the end of it…”



*********



Daria didn’t tell them everything. She stayed quiet about her side trips to Sadrith Mora and Ald’ruhn (though she did open up about her self-taught magic usage; that was the only way to explain how she'd saved Quinn). Mostly, she focused on what Synda had done to her and how that had colored every subsequent action.

It was rough going, at first. The words felt like stones in her mouth, and she had to force out each syllable. But it got easier as she told the tale, until gradually, almost imperceptibly, she couldn’t stop. So much had been locked away for so long, in a private and personal pain, that the mere act of telling, of confirming to her family that it had all been real, felt like a kind of absolution.

The hugs were unavoidable, she supposed. She still wasn’t that big on the whole physical contact thing. Maybe she never would be. But it was no real hardship for her.

“Oh, Daria. Why didn’t you tell us?” mom asked, tears in her eyes.

“Yeah!” dad said, crying freely. “We would have kicked Synda’s ass for you!”

“I already explained. I didn’t want Synda to retaliate against you guys. Of course, I eventually learned it was all a bluff.”

“That was very courageous of you. But you didn’t need to take that all on yourself,” mom said.

“I think I’m starting to realize that. Maybe, what Morrowind taught me more than anything else, is that the world’s a cruel and ruthless place and that you don’t have a prayer of surviving if you’re not willing to work with people.”

Mom took a moment to respond. “I’m not sure I’d phrase it quite so pessimistically.”

“But, with good friends and allies, you can make things suck slightly less. I’d have probably gone completely around the bend if it hadn’t been for Jane.”

She gestured to Jane, who gave a little wave. “Happy to help!”

Daria smiled and kept talking. “It would have also been a lot easier if I’d been honest with the rest of you. Easier for you too, I imagine. I’ll try to do that going forward.”

“I’m so proud of you, Daria,” mom said. “And of you too, Quinn. You’ve both become such brave and capable young women.”

Daria looked at her sister. Little Quinn had led her band of friends through the worst unrest in Balmora’s history. It wasn’t something Daria could have imagined happening a few months ago.

Maybe there really would be a Fashion Guild someday.

Musical Outro - Sons and Daughters, by The Decemberists

[Acadian]

Yay for the Mages Guild and their river dropping firefighting spell. Nice to see Amelia again.

’Wispy black smoke spirals still unspooled from the burned husk of the front office…’
- - Love how you phrased this. Very evocative.

I quite enjoyed the actual, real sisterly exchange between Daria and Quinn. About time, ladies.

Treads and Joval’s chat was great too. Joval’s got a pair of stones it seems and, by Dibella’s silky breaches, it seems the two of them are flirting!

Leave it to Lawyer Mom to have copies of her important papers stored elsewhere. And after a happy family reunion, mom sums things up beautifully here:
“I’m so proud of you, Daria,” mom said. “And of you too, Quinn. You’ve both become such brave and capable young women.”

[SubRosa]

Yay for the Mages Guild stepping up to act as Balmora's unofficial fire department. Much better than Ancient Rome's version run by Crassus...

Quinn has an exhausted and sooty face! Oh no!

Oh my, conduits from Oblivion to get water? I guess they did not get that from the Deadlands. Maybe from Sheo's realm, that had rivers and seas around it.

And now House Hlaalu can impose a new tax on the people to pay for all the damages. That should smooth over any ruffled feathers in the populace...

Nice nod to Argonian biology, and how they change sex as they age, like clownfish do.

And Mom and Dad are back. That should wrap things up. They lost part of their house, but at least got their eldest daughter back. So I guess a fair trade. Hopefully Dad's eye will remain in its socket.

Thank goodness that Daria is not pregnant.

Daria has learned the value of collaborative action, which is quite a big realization, especially for someone who is such a loner by nature as Daria is. Maybe she will go on to become a Labor Union organizer? The Tax Riots were not quite the Battle of Blair Mountain, but it was a learning experience.

This is a nice finish, or near finish to Daria's tale. I have the sense that there is a little more to go, but only a little. It feels like this is wrapping up, with Daria having undergone some very life-changing character development, along with her friends, allies, and even enemies.

[WellTemperedClavier]

Gonna break with tradition slightly and post this on Friday night instead of Saturday morning.

@Acadian - Thanks! I can't claim to be any kind of prose stylist, but every now and then I want to put in an interesting visual.

A lot of Daria's anxieties about coming home were just based on her own insecurities. The family's overjoyed that she's back, just as Jane predicted. But now Daria can finally open up and tell them what's been going on.

@SubRosa - Oof, yes. Granted, Crassus's department is setting the bar pretty low.

Yeah, the guild would have connected with one of the more watery planes of Oblivion. It seemed like a good way to put out a large fire, and one that fit with the setting.

Heh, you'll see Hlaalu's reaction in this chapter.

Yup! Morrowind makes it pretty clear that Argonians have male and female phases, so I decided to incorporate that.

I'm not sure if Daria's a leader by inclination, but she can build networks and alliances. Maybe if she teamed up with Quinn. Quinn could be the face of the movement.

It is coming to a close. This chapter will finish Episode 31. After that, there's the epilogue, which I'll explain farther down below.

Episode 31: Bad Day in Balmora

Chapter 8

Wrapped tightly in her cloak, Synda Grilvayn walked up the ramp to the creaking, stinking wooden vessel that’d be her home for the next few weeks.

Once on-board, she leaned on the railing and looked at Vvardenfell for a final time. Her ship was docked at the port town of Seyda Neen, its peak-roofed and gabled houses perched fearfully at the edge of the Bitter Coast’s dismal swamps.

ALMSIVI alone knew what awaited her in the rest of Tamriel. But she had no future in Morrowind. The money she'd stolen was enough for passage to Solitude, in Skyrim. She shuddered to think of the place. It was probably some freezing hellhole where savage Nords bathed in blood and stuffed their craws with wasabi.

Whatever. She’d made her choice. Synda could not do what a good Dunmer daughter would do, because she’d fallen too far to ever be considered a good daughter. But she’d at least removed herself and spared her parents from any further shame. They'd not much miss what she'd stolen, either.

A sinewy Nord woman who looked more like a troll (or what Synda imagined a troll to look like) than a human sauntered aboard, a big ax hanging from her belt.

“Where are you headed?” she bellowed, like she wanted the whole world to hear. The woman leaned on the railing next to Synda.

“West,” Synda said. “I’m going to keep going west until I reach a place where no one has ever heard about Great House Hlaalu.”

The woman snorted. “I don’t blame you one bit. Hlaalu! You’re a Dunmer and even you’re sick of those bastards.”

Synda said nothing. She studied the lonely docks and the monstrous trees. Exile or not, she was Dunmer. She’d never truly leave Morrowind.

No one ever did.



*********



Officially, thirty-five people died in the event that would be known as the Balmora Tax Revolt: mostly protestors, some guards, and a few luckless bystanders. The authorities rounded up four of the supposed ringleaders. One, who had already had a long history of rabble-rousing and assault, they sent to the headsman’s block. The other three were initially slated for a similar fate, but at the last minute had their sentences commuted to prison terms of no more than twenty years.

Great House Hlaalu lifted the onerous taxes that had started the trouble. The move caught Balmora by surprise. Deferring to rebellion risked a complete loss of legitimacy. Most suspected that the Empire had forced the issue, and likely repaid Great House Hlaalu in some other way.

It was almost enough to make Daria wish she were still with Tomal, as he’d doubtless have insight into the grubby political workings behind the deal.

As it was, on a gray and moody Sundas afternoon when rains crashed down onto the sooty streets, Daria put on her new green bug-shell hat and left the far-too-crowded Roweni house to go and see Jane before she left for Vivec.

The city was back to normal, almost. People walked around the rubble and ignored the scorch marks, pulled ever onward by the promises of new plans and better deals. That sour kwama smell suffused every inch of space, teaming up with the fresh scent of rain to wipe away the lingering smoke. The air hummed with non-stop chatter about prices and payments. Dark, dirty, and endlessly fascinating, Balmora lived on.

She ran into Jolda and Maiko walking along the Odai River, taking shelter under a big umbrella that Jolda carried.

“Daria!” Jolda called. “I heard you came back.”

“The Ascadian Isles were a little too provincial for my tastes,” Daria said.

Jolda laughed. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry again that I couldn’t talk my dad into giving you a second chance.”

“It’s okay, Jolda,” Daria said. “I managed to get a new job at the Mages Guild, so I’m set for the time being.”

“Great. I’m sure you’ll do well.”

“Uh, how are you doing, Maiko?” Daria asked.

Daria had heard the stories. How one young legionnaire had rallied his comrades and defused some of the tensions without shedding blood.

“I’m okay. Captain Varro's real happy with my performance.”

“Thanks for showing restraint,” Daria said.

Maiko nodded. “It’s my job. I can tell you that the Empire didn’t like the way the Hlaalu handled this. There was no reason so many people had to die.”

“It sounds like you’re a big reason for the casualty rate not being higher,” Daria said.

Maiko shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know all of what happened. All I did was tell my men to put up their shields and separate some of the people from the unrulier guards. It was pretty scary. My sergeant got hit with a rock. He’ll live, but they aren’t so sure he’ll be able to return to service. The damage was too deep to be fixed up by the time the healers got to him.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Yeah. Wish I knew who threw that rock. Oh well.”

Daria bade them farewell and resumed her journey. Her hat didn’t block all of the rain, and her sleeves and hemline were soon soaked. But her head stayed dry as she walked through the familiar threshold of the Lucky Lockup.

She felt instantly at home in the constant influx of people from all around Tamriel, brought to Balmora for trade, for knowledge, for opportunity, and for a dozen other things. Already she saw some interesting faces: a broad-shouldered Orc woman in fine clothes and a chipped left tusk; a portly Nibenese man whose green silk coat looked ready to tear open from the weight of all the administrative medals and badges pinned to the fabric; a pensive Redguard in flowing white robes who drummed his fingers on the cover of a small black book as he watched his surroundings.

And, of course, Dunmer. Dunmer from all over Morrowind and beyond, perhaps not meeting as equals but at least as people with a vested interest in cooperation, however temporary.

Among that group was Jane, already sitting at a corner table with a bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy and two pewter cups.

“There you are!” she said, seeing Daria.

“Sorry if I’m a little late,” Daria said, as she took a seat across from Jane. “I keep getting turned around from living in the Roweni house.”

“Hm, is Satheri’s constant need for validation slowly driving you insane?”

“She mostly ignores me. My sister, on the other hand…”

Jane smirked, and then gestured to the bottle. “I remembered how we thought about getting brandy the first time you came to the Lucky Lockup, and how we didn’t have enough money. Since money’s no longer a problem, I figured I’d splurge a little bit.”

In truth, Daria would have preferred mazte or some other Morrowind drink. But she knew better than to complain. It was a kind gesture.

“Thank you,” Daria said.

Jane took the bottle by its neck and poured two cups, first for Daria, and then for her. “I can’t drink too much, though. My strider leaves in a few hours, and you do not want to be drunk on one of those swaying monstrosities.”

Daria raised her eyebrows. “Implying that you’ve been drunk on a silt strider before.”

“Let’s just say I wasn’t in the best mood when I first went to Vivec, and had a bit too much before I boarded.”

“Sorry,” Daria said, remembering the cruel things she’d said to Jane on the night of their big fight. “I guess that was my fault.”

“Hey, the important thing is: now I know not to ride drunk.”

Daria took a sip. The liquid burned her tongue, and the sweetness stayed a bit longer than she would’ve liked. It warmed her up, or rather, gave the impression of warmth.

“Hey, did you ever find out what happened with Lli and Drenlyn Academy?” Jane asked.

“It turns out that the authorities don’t approve of school magistrates who refuse to shelter the kids they’re supposed to protect.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “What a surprise.”

“Anyway, Lli lost her job and from what I hear, isn’t in Balmora anymore.”

“Nothing like some good news to warm my heart,” Jane said.

“Don’t get too excited,” Daria warned. “Now, Ondryn is in charge.”

“I guess I should’ve known better. You’re done with the place for good?”

Daria nodded. “There’s not any real reason for me to stay, and it wasn’t helping me network very much. Quinn’s still going to go there until the end of summer.”

“The Mages Guild job you got is probably more interesting, anyway.”

“I wish,” Daria said. “I’ll likely be doing a lot of the same rote tasks I did there as an intern, but Amelia says it’ll eventually get more interesting. She vouched for me, so I’m obliged to stay.”

Jane nodded. “What about that intern who gave you trouble? Hetheria, I think?”

“Turns out she left for Cyrodiil a year ago. The guild doesn’t know about my unlicensed magic, or my brief alliance with Johanna, so I should be fine as long as I keep my mouth shut.”

“Sounds like a good fit, to me. You’re smart, and a lot of smart people work there.”

Daria took another sip. “I’m not sure being smart is all it’s cracked up to be. I'm still a lot more interested in working in the Imperial Archeological Society.”

“Armand won’t give you a second chance?”

“No. The good news is that the IAS is a big organization, and there’s a lot of cross-pollination between it and the Mages Guild. If I play my cards right, I could still work there someday. Armand’s word has weight, but he’s not in charge of the whole thing.”

“It’s a start,” Jane said, taking a drink. “Hey, you’re going to be visiting me down in Vivec, right?”

“Only if I can fit it in with my exciting lifestyle of rolling scrolls and researching things that have already been researched.”

Jane gave a mock sigh. “How quickly they forget us little people.”

“In seriousness, the Balmora guild relay is linked to the Vivec office,” Daria said. “Amelia tells me that you’re only supposed to use those for official business, but that they have a pretty liberal definition of ‘official’. If that fails, I could always use the silt strider.”

“Sounds to me like things are going well for us both. Suspiciously well.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a casual student of history, it’s that times of peace and prosperity are neither universal nor permanent.”

Jane blinked. “Come again?”

“Basically, things are going great, so we’d better enjoy it while we can.”

“I like that. A toast to the present?” Jane raised her cup.

“To the present,” Daria confirmed, and their pewter vessels clinked together.

Taking another sip, Daria looked around the bustling parlor, so full of life and thoughts from around the known world, and the best friend anyone could ever have across the table from her.

At this point in her life, she couldn’t ask for anything more.



The End

Musical Outro - Nobody's Empire, by Belle and Sebastian

Okay, now a few notes on the epilogue. The epilogue consists of 18 (mostly) short chapters. Each chapter will show what happens to one (or two) of the characters in the future. Since some of these characters are Mer, it will go quite far into the timeline (up to 4E 200).

Since these chapters are pretty short, I'll be posting most of them two at a time. The only exceptions are the final two chapters, which deal with Jane and Daria. Those are a bit longer and will each get their own update. The epilogue chapters don't have accompanying musical outros, either. Partly this was because it's hard to find that many fitting songs, but also because I just think these work better without music. But feel free to supply your own if you're so inclined.

I'm using a more Morrowind-based version of the lore, so there will be some differences compared to what you see in Oblivion and Skryim. But things more or less end up the same way; it's just some of the details that differ.

I'm also going to switch to a Sunday/Thursday posting schedule.

[SubRosa]

Synda. *hiss*

Since she is boarding a ship, I wonder if that means she is in Seyda Neen? In sort of a reverse Morrowind experience.

Yes! Maybe she will walk past the Nerevarine getting off the ship, even as she gets on?

The end result of the Tax Riots sounds pretty typical to be honest.

Daria has a new green-bug shell hat! Cool. That is the thing that marks out the Morrowverse version of Daria.

The sergeant who was hit by the rock reminds me of Pyrrhus. As I recall he was killed by a roof tile, thrown at his head in a riot.

So Daria is back at the Mages Guild. It does seem like the best fit for her, among the other options she still has. I am still holding out for her forming Tamriel's version of the IWW.

So Jane is heading back to Vivec, and things are settling back down to 'normal' at Balmora. It is good to hear that Daria is done with high school. It does seem like she has outgrown it. She's done a lot of maturing lately.

“Basically, things are going great, so we’d better enjoy it while we can.”
Words of wisdom. Enjoy it while you can Daria. The Sleeper has awoken, and in places long thought abandoned, darkness stirs with profane ebullience...

[Acadian]

Given her situation, probably best for Synda to leave Morrowind. I’d wager her assessment of Solitude is not too far off the mark but it may offer her a bit of comfort as long as she can control her true nature – which is doubtful.

Lli got fired! Gee, that breaks my heart.

Very interesting that, although the great tax revolt was quelled, it still succeeded in tax relief.

I’m glad that Daria has stopped burning bridges long enough to take a position with the guild of mages. Not sure of the Third Era MG structure but in the second Era, one significant position in the guild was the ‘Master of Incunabula, responsible for maintaining the guild's libraries, arcanaea, and seeking out new and interesting works to add to the collection.’ Work in that arena sure sounds like it could be well suited to Daria.

A bittersweet brandy meeting with Jane. Both have learned and grown a great deal but their situations now diverge, with Jane returning to Vivec and Daria staying in Balmora.

Thanks for letting us know where we are in the story and how/when you’ll be posting the epilogue. Looking forward to it.

[WellTemperedClavier]

I'm going to wait until Thursday to start posting the epilogue. But I wanted to do something for Sunday, so I'll address the comments!

@SubRosa - It didn't feel quite right to have a big story about Morrowind and not include at least a little bit of Seyda Neen.

Yeah, nothing's going to be majorly fixed after the Tax Revolt. Empire's gonna empire.

Didn't know that about Pyrrhus! But yeah, a tile can brain a king just as well as a commoner.

The epilogue will go into a lot of the dark times ahead. They won't necessarily be completely terrible for all the characters involved, but even if they do okay individually, the world is on a darker path.

@Acadian - Synda's definitely got a hard road ahead of her. You'll eventually see where she ends up with it.

I figured the Empire was embarrassed enough to push Hlaalu to change. But it's not a meaningful change, and Hlaalu will just figure out a new form of wealth extraction.

That's interesting! Does sound like something she'd be good at. I think the main challenge would be the politicking that's an inevitable part of any organization like this.

[Renee]

Alright, finally I get to catch up with y'all's stories! It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Looks like I'm just in time. Sad this series is coming to an end, but on the other hand it always feels good to complete something, right?

My guess would be that the Argonian was just complaining about the cold the way anyone else would. Since I think a cold-blooded creature in snow would simply die.

Or at least go into hibernation!

I figure you've edited a few times. I never visited that other site you posted at (Spacesomething) but I've noticed recently that Quinn's latest meeting with the Fashion Guild was described as an "emergency". Probably that was edited in. Because us Chorrolites made such a fuss about what constitutes an emergency for something so trivial as a Fashion Club!

Anyway, this really sucks. Mom's office is on fire. Too bad Daria's not here yet; she'd probably know better how to handle this. Oh crap. Don't die, muthsera. This is really dire...

Wow, what a homecoming. Not at all what the elder sister (or me) was expecting! Those damn protests, ruining the warm, fuzzy homecoming we expected! Garrrh.

Amelia's the gal from Caldera, correct? I remember liking her a lot. Yes, this is she.

“That’s how she feels about you too, Daria. She’ll be glad you’re back.”

Hearing that made it seem so obvious that Daria wondered how she’d ever believed otherwise.

Phew, I hope this is true! I think it is.

“Daria,” mom said, her voice shaking a bit. “I want you to know that, no matter what happened over the past few months, you have a home here. You’ll always be my little girl, no matter what—”

Shezuss, finally! I bet after all of these events that mom will never be so brusque with her eldest daughter again.

Uh oh, the focus is on Synda now. Yes, let's see what's going on in Syndaworld. Whoa, she's moving away. To Solitude! In all honesty, she'll probably have a better life there. Well, it can't be worse than all the sh*t she's having to put up with from her own family!

Daria got a new bug-shell hat! I don't know why I find that funny. Sorry! It just cracks me up for some reason.

Okay GOOD. Good to hear Magistrate Lli (that B****) has lost her job. Stupid woman. And yeah, the Mages Guild just makes the most sense for Daria. She's already involved with magic, and now she'll be able to practice it completely above-board, not needing to hide her experimenting and so on. And she won't have to go anywhere. Won't have to go trekking off to some faraway ruins and risk her life while doing so. I mean, she's b1tching about needing to return to the MG, but this is perhaps as good as it'll get.

At this point in her life, she couldn’t ask for anything more.



The End

Bravo, WellTemperedClavier. *claps* Really am happy you decided to come here to Chorrol, and share this awesome, unusual tale with all of us. Ciao. 🍷

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Renee - Glad to have you back! It is bittersweet to be closing it out, especially with all the wonderful feedback I've been getting here. But the story has (mostly) been told.

Daria's often her own harshest critic. Thus, she sometimes assumes that everyone else would be equally harsh. But in truth, her family is quite supportive. And now she can acknowledge that (and hopefully, they'll be more understanding of her issues).

Synda's smart enough to know she has no future in Morrowind. Leaving her home province won't be easy, but it's the only way she'll have any kind of future.

I figured the MG would be a pretty good fit, bureaucratic obnoxiousness aside. It plays well to Daria's strengths, and while the guild can be pretty cutthroat, she's canny enough to avoid the worst conflicts.

And the story's not quite done yet!

Episode 32: A c0da to Live By

Chapters 1 & 2

17th of First Seed, 3E 429 – East of Ald’ruhn, Morrowind Province, the Third Empire

Andril Golthyn, once Dimartani, lived to serve.

They said that the evil within Red Mountain was no more. Yet Andril watched all the same. Alone in the Ashlands, within a bug-shell outpost owned by Clan Dlera in service of Honorable Serjo Llendu, he stood guard against a fallen enemy.

There was a satisfying irony that an outlander Nerevarine was the one to fell the Dunmer’s ancient foe. That thought consoled him through the long gray nights and days.

Vanu emerged from the outpost. She was little more than a girl, but already fierce, her bald head marked with scars.

“Sera Golthyn,” she said. “Before I return to Ald’ruhn, there is a question I must ask you. A sensitive one that I cannot ask our honorable hetman.”

Vanu was an outlander, a Dunmer born in Skyrim and orphaned soon after. A knife had been her doll and spilt blood her mother’s milk. Some in Clan Dlera doubted her. An outlander, they said. Too foreign to our ways. So they gave her errands, like collecting reports from Andril and other watchers.

Andril did not doubt her.

“Ask,” he said.

“Is it true that the Nerevarine slew the Tribunal?”

Andril didn’t flinch, but the question struck him like a physical blow. The temple said otherwise—but the fearful faces of the priests, the fact that no one had seen the Tribunal for over a year—fed the rumors.

“I tell you TRULY, that I do not know,” Andril replied.

“What are we to do, though? If it is true? I did not grow up with gods, but I know the Dunmer here adore them.”

“We are Redoran, Vanu. Our WAY is to serve. Gods or no gods, that will never change. We will always do what is right, EVEN if we suffer for it.”

It was not much of an answer. But it was all he could give.

“Thank you, Sera Golthyn,” she said.

Vanu bowed slightly and set off on the long journey back to Ald’ruhn, her silhouette growing smaller and smaller in the overwhelming gray until she vanished from sight.

Andril waited outside a little longer, listening to the bitter winds howl and bluster around him. His life was a hard one, but it was one he’d earned. In the wastes, accompanied by books and weapons and the young warriors who came to him for counsel, knowing he would listen, he was at peace.


12th of Evening Star, 3E 432 – Balmora, Morrowind Province, the Third Empire

No longer cold beneath his fur, his belly full of the tea Jane had brewed that night on one of her visits back to a shop he only opened every other day, J’dash closed his eyes and dreamed.

And his dreams took him back on little paws to the white sands of a forever summer in Elsweyr, where the gleaming dunes always held the heat of the day, and a Khajiit’s bones never grew cold. J’dash ran beneath stars that glittered like sugar crystals against the night’s black fur, laughing with arms stretched out in a darkness that was never dark.

And all his family joined him, and J’dash saw them again as if many years had passed but he’d been with them for all those years, that no whips had ever torn his flesh and no harsh bracers had ever rubbed the fur off his arms. His wife Kisisanda grabbed his shoulders and pulled him close, her golden eyes with moons in them shining from a face furred like snow, her body whole.

All their cubs played as cubs must. Little Z’havirr who leapt lithe and perfect like the hunter he would’ve been, only to clutch his paws around a coconut shell and roll in the bright sand, his eyes asking what it was he held. Curious Tsira who opened baskets and peered inside to see what was tasty, the brown and white fur of her fingers now only stained with juice. Clever Hravirra who looked like a Mer save for the leopard spots on her neck and calves, alive and reading and talking about what she read.

Boundless and free they played and hugged and laughed in a land that never grew cold, the beat of the world’s heart in tune with theirs, their blood hot and their souls aflame.

J’dash knew the dream. He knew how the nightmares so often snuck in, the gray bodies and red eyes, the jagged spears, the clank of chains and the years of pain that never ended and never could end.

But that night he only saw one pair of red eyes, those of Jane, his newest child sitting atop a dune and painting all she saw. And she had always been there, because J’dash had never left Elsweyr. All he loved lay within that land so Jane was there too, drawing things that were not but felt more real than things that were.

All one blood, all together, all dancing beneath the moons to the beat of the world.

J’dash never woke up.

[SubRosa]

Ok, so we are jumping forward to post Morrowind main quest, and an outlander Nerevarine (Joan of Arkay perhaps? Or January of Detroit?) has smoted the evil within Mount Doom.

We will always do what is right, EVEN if we suffer for it.
That certainly sums up the former DiMartini quite well.

That was a nice ending for him. He finally found a place where he belonged, and could be content with his life.

And a really sweet but sad sendoff for J'dash. Again, a really good way for the old cat to end his story. No, my eyes are totally not watering right now. Its just something in my eye...

[Acadian]

A wonderfully fitting ending for Dimartani. He remains as stoic and noble as ever. Lucky indeed, are those wise enough to seek his counsel.

Beautifully poignant doesn’t even begin to describe your send off for J’dash. I can only wish to similarly depart so peacefully to a place where I am surrounded by everything I love and have loved.

[WellTemperedClavier]

@SubRosa - In classic Bethesda fashion, I'm leaving the Nerevarine's identity up for grabs. Suffice to say, someone smote the evil in Red Mountain, and may have also smote some other semi-divine evils in Morrowind as well.

It is probably a pretty good place for Dimartani. His position isn't a prestigious one, but he doesn't much care about that.

As for J'dash, he experienced some brutal things in his life. I'm not inclined to think that a "good" death makes up for that (or for the horrors of slavery). However, he at least got to leave Mundus in a happier state.

@Acadian - Thank you. J'dash wasn't the biggest character in the series, but I still wanted to give him a good sendoff.

Episode 32: A c0da to Live By

Chapters 3 & 4

10th of Frostfall, 3E 433 – Rihad, Hammerfell Province, the Third Empire

Jolda always thought that the gilded dome of Rihad’s palace made a perfect metaphor for high-level politics: glamorous, superficial, and ominously heavy.

In the brazier-lit throne room beneath the dome, she watched as her liege, King Doondana ap-Blubamka al-Rihad, studied a map of Hammerfell. His advisors (of whom Jolda was by far the youngest) stood at attention as he, only a year into his kingship, tried to steer Rihad through the worst crisis Tamriel had seen in over a century.

“My king?”

That was Radam, an advisor carried over from the previous court. He always seemed to be smiling behind his bushy peppercorn beard, but not in a way that Jolda liked.

“Speak,” King Doondana ordered.

“As no emperor sits on the throne—and this Martin Septim may be a pretender—Rihad must see to its own needs. The Crown cities of the north are like daggers pointed at our back, ready to plunge and end us once and for all. We should join with the other Forebear cities and take the war to them. I am sure the Empire will be pleased, if it survives. The Crowns are troublesome to them, as well.”

“You’re talking civil war!” Hooda exclaimed, crossing her arms. Her white dreadlocks shone in the dim light.

“I am speaking of survival!” Radam protested. “Cyrodiil is in chaos. And who is to say that Martin Septim is not just another Daedric doppelganger? All three of his legitimate brothers were exposed as Daedra!”

Hooda rolled her eyes. “According to the angry mobs who killed them, yes, but I’d like to get a second opinion.”

Fueled by the three cups of coffee she’d had that afternoon, Jolda’s mind busily worked the different angles. Radam was a Forebear from northern Hammerfell with a continent-sized chip on his shoulder over how the Crowns had treated his family. Ironically, he acted like a Crown in a lot of ways. Hooda, on the other hand, had spent her life going between Hammerfell and Cyrodiil and was a true believer in the Empire.

“Martin’s no demon,” King Doondana said, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t be fighting the Daedra if he were!”

Radam stepped back, knowing he’d made a mistake. “Your majesty is wise. But who can say Martin will reclaim the Ruby Throne, much less keep it? The Elder Council is as treacherous as the Daedra!”

“They aren’t that bad, no worse than politicians anywhere else,” Hooda said. “If we send troops to support Martin Septim and help him win, it’ll be more reason for the Elder Council to get behind him.”

“With respect,” Jolda said, “I think both of my esteemed colleagues are overlooking the situation at home.”

King Doondana looked up from the map and turned to Jolda. He smiled. Jolda knew he favored boldness and informality, and she tailored her arguments that way.

Jolda continued. “Rihad’s loyalty must always be to the Empire, but we’d be better off focusing on keeping our people safe, strong, and prosperous. When an emperor does return to the throne, we’ll be there for him. We shouldn’t get too involved in Cyrodiilic politics until then.”

“Yes!” Radam thrust his fist into the air.

“On the other hand, attacking the Crown cities would be a disaster in the making.”

Radam growled.

Jolda ignored him. “The last thing the Empire wants is a civil war in Hammerfell. Starting one, even with some justification, ventures on treason. What’s more, it’s not at all clear we’d win. Sending troops north would leave us completely unprotected from bandits and Daedric incursions, which aren't limited to Cyrodiil anymore.”

“A sharp analysis,” King Doondana said, stroking his black beard. “But what should we do? In your opinion.”

“Rihad should focus on protecting its primary concern: trade. We’d best be served by keeping our soldiers in the area, though we can also send some to protect the trade lanes to our key partners on Cyrodiil’s Gold Coast. Just be sure to coordinate with the Imperial Legion so there aren’t any misunderstandings. This will ensure a steady stream of income and demonstrate that Rihad is a viable partner for post-crisis reconstruction in the west.

“As for Martin Septim, I think a token gesture of support is reasonable, but shouldn’t go farther than that until we have a better idea as to what he’s all about.”

King Doondana nodded. “All right. Looks like I got three interesting arguments here. I’ll think on it tonight. You are dismissed.”

Jolda followed her two bickering colleagues for a bit before going off on her own. She walked up stairways and along airy galleries before reaching a balcony that looked out across Rihad, a city of leafy rooftop gardens and sandstone houses the color of sunset.

Jolda had spent most of her life in Morrowind, which meant she’d always have a bit of an outsider’s perspective when it came to Hammerfell. But maybe that wasn’t bad. She’d already fallen in love with the city and its people after a mere three years. A life spent strengthening Rihad would be a life well-spent.


9th of Sun’s Height, 4E 3 – Stros M’Kai, Hammerfell Province, the Ocato Potentate

Getting mad (almost) never solved anything.

But darn it, sometimes it was hard not to!

Amelia took a deep breath, counted to five, and then let it out before opening her eyes. The rest of the management team for the Stros M’Kai branch of the Synod still sat in the meeting room, none of them looking all that sure of what they were doing.

“Okay,” Amelia said, “so the Alchemical Symposium is refusing to honor our invoice because it can’t legally do business with the Mages Guild. Even though we officially stopped being the guild two years ago, and everyone knows it.”

Which, in turn, meant that half of the Synod’s local research had skidded to a halt. With the annual review only a few weeks away.

“We could send someone else to the mainland to ask,” Shurgoz, an elderly Orc enchanting specialist, suggested.

Amelia glanced at the window. It was a beautiful summer day outside, and she’d rather be enjoying the beach with her husband and son than be cooped up in here. But the Synod needed to prove itself to fill the shoes of the Mages Guild, even if it was basically the guild under a new name.

She shook her head. “That’ll take too long.” An idea came to her. “Who filled out the invoice?”

“Pentius did,” Dramrys said. Dramrys was Dunmer, but she’d been born in Cyrodiil. When they'd first met, Dramrys had had a million questions about Morrowind that Amelia couldn’t do much to answer since she’d never seen much of the place beyond Caldera and Balmora. She kind of regretted that. One day, she told herself, she'd go back to really see Morrowind.

“Okay, let me talk with Pentius,” she said.

Amelia walked over to Pentius’s desk, near the front of the Synod office. Pentius was an Imperial a few years younger than her, with messy blond hair that seemed to get messier the more he tried to comb it. He looked up at her when she arrived.

“Yes?”

“Hey, could I see the form you sent to the Alchemical Symposium?”

“But I already delivered it.”

“I know, show me the form you used.”

He leaned to the side and burrowed into his desk, opening and closing drawers, before finally taking out a paper and handing it to Amelia. She figured out what had gone wrong right away: the invoice’s letterhead still read: Guild of Mages.

Amelia sighed. “Pentius, you know that we aren’t the Guild of Mages anymore. Why did you fill out an invoice that still has the old name?”

He gulped. “Steward Rennik said he wanted this done quickly. We have a ton of paperwork with the old name. Seriously, we practically have a warehouse’s worth of the stuff. He doesn’t want to order new paperwork.”

“Okay,” Amelia admitted, “but we can’t use the old forms, either. We can’t legally operate under that name. Here, how about this?”

Amelia put the paper down at the edge of his desk, grabbed his quill pen, and crossed out the letterhead, blocking away as much as she could. Then, above it, she wrote: The Synod.

“I’m going to talk to Steward Rennik,” Amelia said. “I’m not a big fan of using the old forms at all, but maybe it’s the best way to avoid wastage and expense. The symposium should accept invoices as long as they're labeled as being from us, not from the guild.”

“Aren’t we basically the same?”

Amelia nodded. “Minus the conjuration and necromancy studies, and all the branches that got rebranded as the College of Whispers, yeah. We may not have a proper emperor but this is still the Empire, so paperwork matters.”

It always felt good to solve a problem, even if it was kind of a stupid problem. They wouldn’t have finished research by the time of the review, but that was okay. The important thing was for them to be working.

And if Amelia hurried up with her work, she might have a little bit of time for the beach with hubby and baby later that day.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Sep 3 2023, 07:10 PM

[Acadian]

It looks like Jolda has found an enjoyable niche in Hammerfell. She seems happy there and she’s clearly a wise and appreciated court advisor.

Amelia in the 4th Era! She clearly has a position now of some import in the Synod. As she said, ‘twas a minor problem she solved but one that needed solving anyway and served as a nice backdrop for letting us glimpse into her current situation.

I’m quite enjoying these epilogue segments. Not only do they wrap up things for many characters, but they are a fun presentation that, while providing enough information, leave plenty of room for readers to ‘fill in the gaps’.

[SubRosa]

Cyrodiil is in chaos, so its time to ignore the Daedra attempting to destroy the world and drag it into the Deadlands and... settle old scores with those pesky Crowns. Yep, someone had to say that. There is always that guy.

Jolda's proposition is the most prudent of all three, and inarguably the wisest for Rihad. Which is why a lot of people will argue with her on it. Whether or not the King takes her advice is another matter entirely of course.

But it is nice to see that Jolda found a place that she can finally call home. It sounds like she is on the path to happily ever after in Hammerfell.

It's Amelia! Things are not going to great for the Mages Guild Synod I see. As soon as she walked up to Pentium's desk, I knew exactly what the problem was. He used the old Mages Guild stationary, didn't he? Because of course he is just that stupid. I have been doing a lot of reading and listening to history lately, and it is full of morons like this guy. Especially military history.

And Amelia at least comes up with a simple, if ad hoc solution. Plus you worked in a nice little bit of exposition about the post Oblivion Crisis Mages Guild Synod in the process.

Like Acadian, I am enjoying these little epilogue segments. It is like the ending slides of a good RPG, where you get to see how things turned out for all your companions and the factions in the game.

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Acadian - Yeah, Hammerfell is exactly where Jolda wanted to be, so she's happy about that. And even if Amelia's job is sometimes annoying, she's happy with her family.

@SubRosa - Yup, there always is that guy. At least the king has a prudent advisor in the form of Jolda. But he has to listen to her. Regardless, being a royal advisor at such a young age is an impressive feat for her.

Heh, good prediction. Empire stuff is always going to be bureaucratic.

I was going for something a bit like the Fallout ending slides with these.

Episode 32: A c0da to Live By

Chapters 5 & 6

18th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 5 (RED YEAR) – Balmora, Morrowind Province, the Ocato Potentate

Helen hated to admit it, but she’d been lucky in many ways.

Not that she hadn’t worked for every inch of what she’d earned, whether studying obscure tomes by candlelight until her eyes gave out or forging her own legal dominion in Morrowind. Yet she’d done it in the context of an empire that, for all its elephantine sprawl and deep corruption, gave avenues for the common to excel.

The Septim Dynasty had died with the sacrifice of Martin Septim. But, with any luck, the transition to the next dynasty would be smooth, and perhaps they’d fix some of the problems that had always dogged the Septims.

“Are you sure the girls are going to be okay over in Whiterun?” Jake asked.

She and her husband sat on the balcony of the Balmora home where they’d built so many memories: some good, some bad, but nearly all made rosy by the passage of time. It was late afternoon, the sky clear from the recent spring rains, and she could still imagine Daria and Quinin coming in through the door after a day in Drenlyn Academy the way they used to, twelve long years ago.

“They’ll be fine, Jake,” Helen said. “Skyrim will be a bit of a culture shock, but Whiterun's a cosmopolitan city that offers fantastic career opportunities for them both.”

“But who knows what could happen next? I’m not so sure about this Ocato guy. The Empire needs an emperor, dammit!”

“Which is exactly what Chancellor Ocato is trying to arrange.”

Jake frowned. “I guess. But it feels like everything’s up in the air. And what’s with—”

Best to cut him off now. “Oh, Jake, any new recipes?”

Jake brightened up all at once. “Oh boy!” He rubbed his hands together and grinned. “So, you know how much I love this kwama stuff, but I keep thinking it’d go great with some good old-fashioned fish sauce like what they used to ship here from the west. I found out the other day that some guy in Gnisis…”

Helen smiled and nodded, paying more attention to the comforting sound of her husband’s voice than the specifics of what he said. Jake had aged well. He’d worked less and less as Helen’s firm grew, which she’d thought would be a problem. But somehow it wasn’t. Jake constantly pursued new projects—amateur carpentry, cooking, even alchemy—and he tackled them with a young man’s guileless enthusiasm. The house was always spotless and something delicious was always on the table. Seeing him that way made Helen feel young again.

Which had other benefits, as well.

Jake was telling her what herbs he’d use when a colossal boom sounded out from beyond the southern hills. A shockwave hit a moment later, a trembling in the earth and air that made the entire city fall silent and take notice.

“What was that?” Jake wondered.

Helen grabbed Jake’s hand.


5th of Midyear, 4E 7 – Leyawiin, Cyrodiil Province, the Ocato Potentate

Monsoon rains lashed Leyawiin that morning, the skies above as black as a starless night. Treads-on-Ferns wanted to go out. His scales itched to let the rain fall on them, but he knew better. Ash particulate from Red Mountain still tainted each drop, two long years after its eruption. He’d seen the effects on the careless: rashes on skin, bare patches on scales or fur.

He remembered the cheers that went up from Leyawiin’s Argonian neighborhoods the minute they heard about Red Mountain blowing its top. Who cared that the eruption caused earthquakes, tidal waves, and droughts across all of Tamriel? What mattered is that it had killed a lot of Dunmer (and a lot of Argonians, and Khajiit, and Bretons, and others).

Treads got it. Great House Hlaalu belatedly ending slavery in their territories didn’t make up for a thousand years of cruelty. Nothing could. Red Year was a form of justice. Treads accepted it with a bit of grim satisfaction, but he couldn't celebrate it.

He rolled out of bed and walked downstairs to get the teashop ready for the day. The tea came first, as always. He lugged his two iron cauldrons out to the little enclosure, protected by a stout roof of lashed-together bamboo poles and a fence of the same. He used the spigot to fill buckets with clean-enough water from plumbing that (mercy upon mercies) still worked. After filling the cauldrons, he set fires in the little charcoal pits beneath them. Not a lot of heat, but enough that the tea would be steaming by the time the customers came in.

Treads paused from his labors and looked out past the little fence. The jungle had overtaken the abandoned houses across the street, gutted during the Oblivion Crisis and never repaired. Running a teashop at the edge of the habitable parts of Leyawiin ran a lot of risk, but was cheap.

Worse came to worst, he owned a spear and knew how to use it. He’d only ever had to brandish it once.

“Hope you’re alive, Jeval. Quinn. Tiphannia. And you too, Satheri,” he said.

At least he knew for a fact that Jeval and Tiphannia had both left Morrowind well before Red Year, one going west to Hammerfell, the other east to find her family in Cathnoquey. Quinn and Satheri had both gone to the mainland, so they'd probably escaped the eruption.

But not necessarily Treads’s fellow Argonians, who’d boiled across the border to repay the atrocities inflicted on them by the Dunmer. Atrocities that the Empire had allowed for centuries.

Customers filtered in soon enough, along with his assistant, Swims-Like-Fish. Treads’s mood improved as conversation and the sweet smell of a dozen different spices filled the bare little parlor. Everyone was welcome at the teahouse so long as they let everyone else be welcome. It was a simple rule.

The rain slackened toward the end of the day. Treads sometimes chatted with patrons but never overmuch. They came to hang out with each other, not with him. The old days were gone, but their joys didn’t have to be.

Night fell, though it was hard to tell the difference with the cloud cover. Folks came and went. Treads was about to close up when an Argonian hurried inside. She wore a drab Western-style cloak that brought out the vivid magenta of her shades. Quinin would have had all kinds of fashion recs for a woman like her.

“Hey!” she said, jogging up to the counter with a small wooden box in her hands. “Glad I got here. So, you want to help our kindred in the fight, yes?”

“Be more specific,” Treads said. "There are a lot of fights these days."

Her irises narrowed in annoyance. “Come, you know what I mean! When they told me you weren’t part of the cause, I couldn’t believe it. An Argonian like you, who’s been to Black Marsh, who drank the Hist sap—”

“Let me guess,” Treads said. “You want me to put that little box on my counter with a sign telling people to donate money to the An-Xileel.”

Not too different from what he used to do for the Argonian Mission as a kid. Except the Argonian Mission had been run by Cyrodiilic Argonians like him and his parents, and the An-Xileel hated anything that smacked of the Empire. He didn’t blame them for their hatred.

“We are all People of the Root,” she said. “That means we have to stand together. The An-Xileel are liberating our cousins in Morrowind as we speak—"

“It’s been a long-time coming. Though it’s a bit peculiar to see you trying to raise money in Cyrodiil. My understanding is that the An-Xileel aren’t too forgiving to Argonians associated with the Empire. Or perceived as being associated. I’ve talked to some of the refugees.”

Her gills fluttered. “The Empire brutalized our people!”

“I don’t disagree.”

“So you will help?”

“I know that you can’t change society by being nice to the people who have their foot on your neck,” Treads said. “The Empire was awful, and should never have been in Black Marsh, or probably anywhere outside of Cyrodiil. Most of this mess is their fault.

“But I also know that, if I’d been in Black Marsh when the An-Xileel took over, I’d have been a target. Someone to be burned or flayed alive. My family would have met the same fate. And that’s why I’m not going to help you. I understand why you do what you do. But I won’t aid a group that kills people whose only crime was being born to the wrong tribe.”

“The Argonians who tell you that are liars. They only want your coin, so they tell these sad stories—”

Treads shook his head. “No. I’ve seen their scars. I know why the An-Xileel do what they do. But the lines were already drawn, long before we were born, and I’m on this side.”

She drew back. “That’s very small of you,” she said, her nostrils flaring.

“Doesn’t bother me.”

She huffed and left, leaving Treads in peace. He looked up once she stepped out the door to make sure she hadn’t brought any An-Xileel bullyboys. But he was alone. Not surprising. The Potentate still ruled. The An-Xileel didn't have much say in Cyrodiil.

And if worse came to worst, Treads still had that spear.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Sep 7 2023, 04:33 PM

[Acadian]

Helen. Jake and Helen seem to be aging contentedly in Balmora. I’m so glad they are happy and okay with the girls off in Whiterun. I’m also encouraged that Quinn and Daria both went to the same place – maybe they’ve gotten more into this sister stuff.

Uh oh. Colossal booms are generally bad. Especially if they come from Red Mountain I figure.


Treads. So the Fashion Club members have gone their ways and Treads has gone into the tea business. I see the Argonian has also changed genders. Buffy has spoken with several Argonians in the Second Era who have changed gender and she understands the Hist is quite helpful in that regard. Treads is as wise as ever, seeing the situations in Morrowind with the great houses and in Black Marsh with the Empire in a realistic way but without hatred or wishes for vengeance.

’Everyone was welcome at the teahouse so long as they let everyone else be welcome. It was a simple rule.’
- - More simple Treads wisdom. We are blessed here at chorrol to bask under the same rule.

[Renee]

Year 429, so this part occurs well after the events of the previous story, okay. Very good. Seems Dimartani has continued to live somewhere out in Redoran territory.

This new character Vanu is asking about the events of the game from our perspective. Hmm, I can't help but wonder who Vanu is. Is this a character you played the game with? Or are all these characters so far just 100% "fictional"? --- If Vanu is fictional, I'm wondering the name of your Nerevarine. Just curious.

Whoa, you're writing up a Khajiit!

Jolda winds up in Hammerfell. She's the one whose father is the guy Daria burned the bridge right?

Talking about Martin Septim. Man, you're really going into the story/lore here, Clav. So that's Jolda's story. Hmm. I really wonder what happened to the three idiots. I'm bad with names sometimes, but one of them is Jeval, I think. Did they continue to obsess over poor Quinn. Heck, I wonder what happens to Quinn! - I'm guessing she'll become the grand entrepreneur of the group.

Amelia's all grown up.

Ah, Helen. The big lawyer mama. Here we go. Interesting that she & Jake are still here in Balmora. Seems they must really like some aspects of this town, which has certainly remained challenging over the years. Hmm, their daughters have moved on... to Skyrim. Wow.

“But who knows what could happen next? I’m not so sure about this Ocato guy. The Empire needs an emperor, dammit!”

Dad's getting fired up! Laughing, as usual. He always cracks me up.

Treads is in Leyawiin. And it's raining. Funny thing: when I was playing Oblivion (PS3 and then Xbox, which of course means no weather mods) years ago it ALWAYS seemed like it rained more in Leyawiin!

Whoa, whoa whoa.. hold on. That's right. Red Volcano. It was Year 5 when the parents were discussed, now it's Year 7. So: did the parents perish with the eruption? Maybe that's why they held hands at the end. Cripes.

This post has been edited by Renee: Sep 8 2023, 06:14 PM

[SubRosa]

So it is twelve long years in the future. That means they have lived through both Dagoth Ur and the Oblivion Crisis. I am sure nothing else world-shattering will ever happen in their lifetimes. I mean, that would just be laying it on too thick, wouldn't it?

Phew, reading that Daria and Quinn are leaving the province comes as a relief. Still, at least Helen and Jake did build up some good memories in Balmora, enough to smooth out all the rough edges from the not so good ones.

Uh boy, here it comes. The Red Year. Goodbye Helen and Jake. At least you had time to build some good memories, and you got to die together, knowing that your children were safe.

Treads is a 'he' now. Cool to have that acknowledgement of the Argonian life cycle done so simply.

So it sounds like most of the old gang from the Fashion Club made it out of Morrowind alive. That is something.

One can certainly empathize with the schadenfreude of seeing Red Mountain explode from an Argonian perspective. The Germans also have a word meaning something like "A face deserving of being punched" that also applies to the Dunmer Great Houses. Unfortunately, a lot of not evil people like Helen and Jake died in the same catastrophe.

And then there is that guy again, the An-Xileel. Treads has clearly seen them for what they really are, rather than just the propaganda that people outside of Black Marsh and Morrowind have been fed. It reminds me of Stalinism back in the 20s and 30s, before the rest of the world really found out about all the genocide he was doing.

[Renee]

Uh boy, here it comes. The Red Year. Goodbye Helen and Jake.

Okay, so that IS what happened to them, eh? Hoo boy. Didn't see that coming.