Outlanders (Morrowind Crossover) Options

[Acadian]

Welcome to the gritty world where Jane lives, Daria. Nicely done with the apology and, hopefully, it will take once Jane has some time to think on it. Well, a bath and place to sleep count for something in this confusing and unfriendly city.

Out job hunting the next day. Uh-oh, looks like the only thing Daria’s getting is lost.

[Renee]

Yes, well Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians had that one song, and then they went *Poof* like Alanis. In the case of Alanis it was simply a fickle music market, whereas with Edie, it was because she got married to Paul Simon, who would've been about 20-30 years her senior. At least this is what a lot of folks assumed. Paul & Edie got married, and *poof* Edie was then set for life. Because Simon's career spans well back into the '60s, and he & his co-singer Garfunkel have got all those mega-hits which we hear all the time in supermarkets and elevators. So now she's super-rich. Who needs to actually work??

She ditched her band, or so went the rumors. Having a quick look at Wikipedia of course, it didn't happen quite that way.

Anyway, Vivec must be like some third-world areas which are crowded and dangerous, I think I've read lore which supports this. In the base game there's a lot of stuff which gets assumed due to RAM limits of the time, and so on.

Yeah, how is Jane supposed to know what "Cyrodiilic" means? And the thing is, it's not like she can just ask questions. Pretty soon she'll hit that wall. "Don't you know what you're doing?" and so on. Let's see if I'm right. ... Oh gosh, speaking of fickle! Seems this lady doesn't know what she wants! And yet it's Jane's job to interpret correctly, or else...

Jane's finally getting paid? Nice! ... Aw, she's thinking of her friend. Well, she won't have to think much longer.

Sounds like Celengor is striking out to become an Impressionist. Manet, Monet, Van Gogh, etc. Which I know were seen as rebels back then.

Oh man, here's the moment of truth. Wow, Daria's a mess. And ah geez.... she's already got the torch to burn that bridge to Celengor even before she's gotten to know that guy! ... Easy hon, easy!

Maybe, she thought, gods weren’t the best when it came to designing habitation for mortals.

Is this why Vivec is so oddly-designed? Granted, the pyramid is supposed to be one of the most durable structures, an idea handed down from the Gods themselves. But yeah, maybe these cantons were not originally designed for habitation, huh?

Baar Dau is the "moon" which floats over the south of Vivec, eh? That's where my archer lady levitated to a couple weeks ago. Weird. I didn't know it's also a meteor which got halted in place!

Anyway, I feel for Daria. Many, many times I myself have been confused about which canton my character's in (without looking at the map) and I've been playing Morrowind since the summer of 2017! We think we're in Arena, when we're really in Hlaalu. Argh! Half the time those ferry boats go to every canton EXCEPT the one we need to get to!!!

[WellTemperedClavier]

@SubRosa - It'll be awkward for a while. The thing is, Jane actually has a life to lead in Vivec. She's too busy to think about Daria that much (as opposed to Daria, who's been dwelling on Jane). So it's not even so much that Jane's mad, just that she's moved on a bit.

The whole Baar Dau thing seems like it's a textbook example of an abusive significant other. "Love" my ass. It's a power flex, and one that'll have disastrous repercussions in the near future.

That sounds like it'd work! It's a classic song.

@Acadian - If you're not getting lost, you're not in Vivec.

@Renee - Oh, interesting! They're still married, so I guess she's living the high life.

Originally, the top levels of the cantons were supposed to be open-air, but this caused issues with the computers of the time. That's why Bethesda enclosed them beneath the domes. I split the difference, and had it so the domes are retractable. They'll enclose during heavy weather.

Yeah, working for Serjo Olerlo is not fun. She isn't malicious, just clueless and aggravating. But that's still a lot to deal with from your boss.

Jane's subplot in this episode does touch a bit more on more abstract and subjective types of art. I figure Tamriel might have enough of a market for that kind of thing.

My interpretation is that Vivec was sufficient for the Dunmer population in the time in which it was built. But the population has gotten way bigger since then--both Dunmer and outlander--and Vivec's become an important enough commercial center that it can no longer easily accommodate everyone. Combine that with the city not being able to expand, and you have a pretty rough situation.

One of the Daedra (I think Sheogorath) sent a meteor to strike Vivec. Vivec froze it in place, and said he'd keep it there as long as the Dunmer in the city loved him. Which... yeah. Doesn't reflect well on Vivec. Now it's used as a political prison.

Vivec's not fun to navigate. But I do kind of like it, in a weird way. The inconvenience makes it feel more real somehow.

Episode 30: The Cantons of Vivec

Chapter 4

Ten days into her stay in Vivec, and Daria hadn’t gotten used to the stink-eye from the woman who doled out the saltrice porridge at the public kitchen. The kitchen was a low-ceilinged warren filled with the paupers of St. Olms Canton and the smell of burnt food. As an Imperial (the only outlander present most days) able to afford glasses, she didn’t exactly match the rest of the clientele.

The Dunmer woman grunted and glanced at the beetle-shell badge pinned to Daria’s coat, emblazoned with the numeral two to show she was getting food for two people that day: her and Trent. Daria declined to meet her judgmental gaze as she heard the wet plop of plasticine gruel in her outstretched wooden bowls.

She left as soon as she got the meal, hurrying past the lines of tattered Dunmer and feeling the resentment in their eyes.

Trent waited back at the Llayn apartment, sitting on the counter with his back against the wall as he plucked the strings of his lute.

“I live in a shell, ‘cuz you put me in hell… nah.” He scratched some words off the paper next to him.

Daria placed the bowls on the counter and took a few wooden spoons from the drawer. She put a spoon in each bowl and wondered exactly how much labor had gone into producing the food that she, poor only due to pride, prepared to eat. She’d insisted on fetching the food though. The chore distracted her from the fact that she still hadn’t found any kind of job.

“Hey, Daria,” Trent said.

“Yeah?” she replied between mouthfuls of the blandest porridge she’d ever eaten. The stuff was like clay in her mouth, but somehow less appetizing.

“Jane said she’d bring some dinner from Olerlo’s tonight.”

“Great. I’m sure the public kitchen’s hardworking staff of irritable old people would be thrilled to know we’re dining off a noble’s table.”

“Hm…”

Daria looked up, wondering what Trent would say next.

“I live in a shell, you rang the death’s knell… nah.” The scratch of his quill consigned another line of poetry to oblivion.

Jane did come back that night, bearing a smile on her face and a sack bulging with herb-roasted kwama meat and a jug of mazte. The smell took Daria right back to the open-air markets of Balmora, back when the only restriction against buying food or drink came from potentially spoiling her appetite. With 98 septims left to her name, Daria had to be careful.

“Should I be thankful to your boss for gracing us with this bountiful meal?” Daria asked. Gods, the worst part was that she did feel grateful. Days of porridge did that to a person.

Jane made a dismissive gesture. “Eh, she’s got plenty to spare. It’s not like we cost her anything with this housing arrangement.”

Jane had explained the arrangement not long after Daria’s arrival.

“See,” she’d said, “St. Olms Canton’s supposed to be for poor people. That’s why you have all the free kitchens and public housing. Now, you do have some Hlaalu nobles—like my boss—who live on the top level. They worked out a deal with the temple to let their menials live in public housing since that means the nobles don’t have to feed and shelter us.”

“What did the temple get out of this?”

“Political support.”

“Classic Hlaalu.”

Back in the present, Daria sipped mazte and hoped that the alcohol would make the situation easier to accept. It didn’t.

“Doesn’t it bother you that we’re occupying an apartment meant for paupers who have nowhere else to go?” Daria asked.

Jane shrugged. “This living arrangement isn’t my idea. It’s how Serjo Olerlo wants it. She’d rather have me use public housing than pay me enough to afford a regular apartment.”

“But you’re going along with it.”

“We sure are,” Jane said.

Daria didn’t miss the emphasized collective pronoun. “Because I lack the strength of will to make a big deal about it when I’m also a beneficiary.”

A beneficiary not only in shelter and sustenance, but in clothing. Jane had given her money to buy some new outfits. Important, since Daria had come to Vivec with only what she wore. She’d bought cheap and durable, and green and black, as always.

Jane took a bite of kwama, looking at Daria while she chewed. “You said it, not me.”

Gods, she wanted to say something. Weren’t they on the same side with this? Pushing back against the absurdities and inequities of life?

“I kinda like the apartment,” Trent said.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Jane replied. “You hardly ever leave it.”

Daria noticed the irritation in Jane’s voice.

“It’s a good place for me to recharge my creativity,” Trent said. “I’m soaking up the Vivec vibe.”

“And you show off this creativity when you play at Elven Nations one night a week.”

That was odd, Daria thought. Trent used to travel all over Vvardenfell to play his music.

“It’s about the quality, Jane. Not the cashflow,” he said.

Jane shook her head. “You’re both lucky that I’m working for Serjo Olerlo.”

Daria supposed if she were serious about this, she’d find a job and get her own place. So far as she could tell, most of the people in the Foreign Canton lived six to an apartment since rent was sky-high and kept soaring higher. That’s what happened in a holy city where urban development constituted literal blasphemy.

“Sorry,” Daria said. Yet what she wanted to say churned deep within her, bubbling to get out. She knew it wasn’t fair to Jane. She owed Jane, not the other way around. Why couldn’t she let these things go?

“It’s okay,” Jane answered, still not looking up.



*********



The late morning sun beamed down on St. Olms Plaza the next morning, the canton dome retracted to bring in the fresh air and light. Jane crossed the plaza toward Olerlo Manor, where she’d spend the day working on her employer’s latest commission. With any luck, Serjo Olerlo would let her paint outside.

That was the problem with Vivec, Jane thought. Living in the dark made you lose your sense of color. Balmora hadn’t exactly been a riot of hues, but at least the houses there had windows! She wondered what Vivec himself thought of the city.

Jane checked her own thoughts. Not that she minded living in his namesake city. She loved how its grandeur sang of his glory and knowing that thousands upon thousands of pilgrims had walked across the same stones she now walked. The problem, she figured, was the Dunmer. As vain as always, her people had turned the holy city into a glorified money trap.

Maybe, one day, crafty Vivec would teach them all a lesson. A reminder that for all their wealth and power, he was greater still. But he’d do that on his schedule, not on hers. She bowed her head for a moment, focusing on the letter V so he knew that she still thought of him, and always would.

“Hey, Jane! Ready to rock the artistic world to its core?”

Celegorn strode toward her, his hair incandescent in the sun's light. Seeing him move was like watching nature bloom in the middle of this stone-clad city.

“I do whatever Serjo Olerlo wishes,” she said, and then lifted her eyes heavenward to show how much she hated that.

Celegorn laughed and got next to her. “We can both rock it for real at the art show tomorrow night. You submitted your entry, right?”

“Yeah, ‘Screaming Lady with Claws’ along with a few others. That one’s a good expression for how I feel right now. I’m stretched pretty thin between Serjo Olerlo and Daria.”

“The glasses chick still giving you trouble?”

Jane couldn’t help but giggle. “Daria will kill you if she hears you calling her that again.”

“She’ll have to catch me first. Us Bosmer are pretty quick. Seriously though, are things okay? You were pretty tight with her back in Balmora, right?”

“Living with her is a little tough, is all.”

Celegorn gave a sage nod. “It’s hard to share these dinky apartments with anyone. My roommate’s a great guy and I still feel like strangling him to death half the time.”

“Living with someone’s the first step to hating them,” Jane said. It sounded like something Daria would say.

But that didn’t sit well with Jane. Life before Daria had felt like a prison. Back then, she woke up in a box, pretended to pay attention at school, and then worked her fingers to the bone, all to go back to the box, sleep, and do it again.

Come to think of it, that’s kind of how life after Daria felt, too.

“Kick her out then,” Celegorn said.

“No, I don’t want to do that. Daria is a good friend... most of the time. She’s the kind of person who speaks her mind. I guess that’s why I liked her so much. She said the things I wasn’t allowed to say, and she could get away with it. Hanging out with her let me feel like I could do the same.”

“She could get away with it?" Celegorn snapped his fingers. "A ha! She’s rich!”

“Kind of. She’s lucky in a lot of ways, but she hasn’t always had an easy ride, either. Telling the truth to people doesn’t earn you a lot of friends. But I don’t think Daria always tells the truth to herself.”

“How do you mean?”

“She says she can’t go home to her parents because she flunked some job offer. Which is crazy! I know her mom and dad, and they love her to bits. Not like my folks, who don’t even know if I’m alive. Though I guess I don’t know if they’re alive, either.”

The thought cast a pall over Jane. That was the one thing that always bugged her about Daria: the way she pretended to be alone.

“Yeah, I get that,” Celegorn said. “Don’t know if my folks are still around, and the world’s for sure better off if my dad isn’t.”

“Anyway, Daria goes on about how unfair the world is. She’s not wrong, but sometimes it being unfair helps her and she isn’t comfortable admitting that. And I don’t like it when she judges me, because then I wonder if maybe I could do better, and the reason I don’t is because I’m as corrupt as everyone else.”

“No one gets through life clean,” Celegorn said. “Way I see it, her family has cash. Your family might as well not exist, so you gotta get ahead however you can.”

“I know. Daria’s an Imperial, and you know how they are; think they can fix the world and make it perfect if they pass the right laws.”

“Then they pass the laws and make it worse.” He grinned. “Sounds to me like you need a break. Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner tonight?”

Jane’s heart leaped. Oh, she’d been longing to hear him say that! She reached out and took his hand, a surge of energy running through her arm as skin touched skin. His black eyes widened a bit but he didn’t lose his cool.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t.

“I’d love to, but I’m doing the finishing touches on Serjo Olerlo’s latest commission.”

“Tomorrow then. We’ll do lunch, and then go to the show. I’ll see if I can sneak out something good from Serjo Half-Troll’s kitchen.”

Jane smiled. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”

Still, she had to be careful. She didn’t know him that well. Maybe a date in a public place? Or maybe…

“Is it okay if I bring Daria?” Jane suddenly asked.

Musical Outro - Come Monday Night, by God Help the Girl

[SubRosa]

I found that the levitate spell makes Vivec a lot easier to get around within. I just fly from one canton to another.

St. Olms always makes me think of John Holmes. So I always think its the St. John Holmes canton of porn.

It should be:
"I live in a shell
Because this is Morrowind, we all live in shells here, have you seen how big the bugs get!"

Maybe Daria could try working for J'basha at his bookstore in the Foreign Quarter?

It sounds like House Hlaalu is run by the Walton family. Come to think of it, Hlaalu does = Walmart...

Well Jane, turns out that Vivec is indeed going to show them all, in just a few years in fact. Hope you are not there when it happens...

I loved Jane and Cele's observation about Imperials and their penchant for passing laws to make things better, which in actuality only make them worse.

[Acadian]

I’m glad to see Jane and Daria inching back together, albeit not without some bumps. Daria has learned enough to bite her tongue sometimes and even occasionally apologize. And Jane has recognized what it is that she likes about Daria, irritating sometimes as she can be.

Celegorn is pretty astute in his observations and comments about most things – clever elf he is. Jane is still not sure where she stands with him. And I’m not sure she knows even what she wants in that regard. . . .

Trent is so low key and unflappable that you have to like him. He kind of digs that tiny apartment.

Fabulous reading, this character development under the dreary banner of life in Vivec City.

[WellTemperedClavier]

@SubRosa - Levitate does indeed make Vivec a lot easier.

You know, I kind of regret not finding a way to include Jobasha in this story, since his bookstore would be of interest to Daria.

And yeah, Hlaalu will use every dirty trick in the book to save a few septims.

Thanks. The bulk of this series is told from the Imperial perspective, so I wanted to get some others in there as well.

@Acadian - Vivec's certainly signaled some big changes for the characters. Of course, change is something that Daria tends to struggle with...

Episode 30: The Cantons of Vivec

Chapter 5

If Jane had suddenly turned around and told Daria that she was being marched to her execution, she doubted she’d dread it any more than the upcoming lunch with Celegorn. Execution might be an improvement. A slice of the headman’s ax would at least be quick.

“Are you sure you want me along for this?” Daria asked as they scurried down one of St. Olms’ corridors. “You know I don’t make good company on this kind of thing.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jane said.

“It was anything but fine with Natalinos. As I recall, you got pretty frustrated with me for being my usual charming self.”

Jane shrugged. “You were also right about him. Look, I’m a little nervous about going to Celegorn’s apartment on my own. He seems alright, but you can never be sure. Think of yourself as an insurance policy if it makes you feel better. Insurance doesn’t have to be charming.”

“Okay, but Trent would have probably been a better choice for that.”

Jane didn’t respond. Daria plodded along behind her, more and more certain that this was a trap to get her to say something so obnoxious that Jane could kick her out and feel good about it.

“I don’t like Celegorn,” Daria admitted.

“You barely met him.”

“Since when has barely knowing someone ever stopped me from hating them?”

“Anyway, that means if he turns out to be a jerk, I know you’ll be on my side,” Jane said.

Jane stopped at an anonymous-looking door and rapped on its worn, wooden surface. Celegorn opened it a few moments later. The bright grin on his face wouldn’t have looked out of place on a Hlaalu shyster.

“Come on in, come on in,” he said, beckoning with his hand.

Daria followed Jane into an apartment that felt like all the other interior spaces she’d seen in Vivec: gray, small, and smelly. Celegorn gestured at the table, already laden with earthenware plates of fish and other delights.

“I got the best for you ladies! Grilled fish from the loudest fishmongers of the Arena Canton; a kwama egg omelet, also from the arena; a few glasses of Surilie Bros. wine that I won in a particularly vicious game of backgammon with a one-eyed Breton sailor; and the piece de resistance, beetle pie from Serjo Half-Troll’s kitchen, courtesy of a cook who now only owes me one favor.”

“This looks great!” Jane said.

Celegorn pulled a seat out for Jane, and she gave him this adoring look completely void of thought or critique. At Daria’s worst, she was pretty sure she’d never have given Tomal that kind of a look. She was about to say something when Celegorn darted over and pulled out a chair for her.

“And for you,” he said.

She glared at him, annoyed that he’d moved so quickly to be polite. Then she muttered a thank you and sat down.

“Daria,” Celegorn said, as he settled down on the seat next to Jane, “did Jane tell you about the art show at the Black Shalk Cornerclub tonight?”

Daria nodded. “I guess one good thing about Vivec is that it’s big enough to be culturally innovative. Not that it cancels out the city’s inequities.”

“Oh, Vivec’s a sleazy, dirty place,” Celegorn said. “Probably why I fit in so well.” He looked to Jane and grinned, and she giggled.

Gods, Daria hated this.

“Nothing like rolling in the mud to show how above it you are,” Daria muttered, making sure she said it loud enough to be noticed.

Was Jane trying to bring things to a head with this? If so, maybe it was time to indulge her.

“Hey, we’re all pigs, right?” Celegorn replied. “Just trying to get ahead any way we can.”

“You seem pretty comfortable with that proposition,” Daria said.

“I keep it real.”

“Said with all the satisfaction of someone who benefits.”

“Mm, you picked some good fish,” Jane said, a little louder than she needed to.

“Oh, I know. Live here as long as I do, you know which fishmongers sell the best product. The key,” he said, lowering his voice as if sharing some kind of state secret, “is looking at their hands. Lots of scratches mean that they used to work with lines and hooks, and that means they actually know about fishing. The lady I buy it from, Nevasa? Her hands are all scars. And she sells the best fish.”

“See,” Jane said, looking at Daria, “this guy knows Vivec.”

“I’ve been roaming since I was a kid, so I got pretty good at figuring things out.”

Celegorn was so damned sure of himself. Why did Jane always fall for these thinly veiled confidence men? Her friend’s terrible taste in significant others aside, Daria knew she had to behave, so she focused on the food and let the lovebirds do the talking.

The food was pretty good. The fish tasted fresh, like it’d been snapped out of the ocean and plopped right on the grill before being served. Daria doubted that Celegorn knew how to pick out a good fishmonger (given the sheer number of people in Vivec, she figured the anglers focused on volume rather than quality), but he had found a good source at the very least.

Daria tried to figure out what she’d tell Jane later if she asked for her opinion on Celegorn. Then again, Jane giggled at every forced witticism that came from Celegorn’s mouth. She only wanted Daria's approval. The same way everyone wanted approval, to hear that they were great for taking part in a corrupt system. So that maybe they didn’t have to listen to that nagging voice that told them they weren’t so great after all, that maybe they could do better.

This was a trap.

Did Daria deserve it? She’d showed up in Vivec unannounced, criticized Jane for accepting public housing while taking advantage of the same, all on top of treating her shabbily back in Balmora.

Hell yes, Daria deserved it.

She’d blown things up with Armand, with her family, and with Tomal. At this point, she might as well go all the way.

Daria took another draught, one big enough to make her a bit light-headed.

“Hey, Daria,” Celegorn said. “How are you liking Vivec so far? Must be a pretty big adjustment after Balmora.”

“Vivec’s a place where the corrupt rise to the top and exploit the system to stay there. So no, not a big adjustment at all.”

Celegorn smiled like he knew exactly what she meant, and for a moment, Daria saw what Jane saw. “Guess the Empire’s the same all over. But you can’t be that far from the top yourself.”

“Yes, which is why I came here with the clothes on my back and stinking of the road with barely over a hundred septims in my pocket.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that. But you could always go back home. Those glasses?” he pointed two fingers at her eyes, “Those cost a lot.”

“Celegorn…” Jane said, and Daria couldn’t quite tell if Jane was warning him or admiring him.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

A strange sort of relief swept over Daria. After tonight, she’d be done.

“I am, in fact, a beneficiary of a crooked system. Much like your boss, though at his position he’s one of the people actively keeping it crooked. You help him with the visual flattery you call art. In return, you receive the largess you need to live comfortably and feel good about yourself. Unlike you, I won’t make any pretense that I’m doing this out of some kind of authenticity. Fundamentally, I am a bad person. But I realize it.”

“Wait, Daria—” Jane started.

Standing up from the table felt like breaking free of chains. This was the thrill of the void, casting it all aside so she could hide away in obscurity until she died and left this miserable, rotting world.

“And,” Daria continued, “since I realize it, I’m going to put my money where my mouth is and attempt to find some way to separate myself from the corruption.”

Daria ignored their objections as she opened the door and stepped into the hall. Not knowing where she wanted to go, other than far away, she took quick long steps down the corridor and through every side-tunnel she crossed until she knew they couldn’t find her.

Now she truly was alone in the big city, with barely any money and no idea what to do next.

“How’s this for keeping it real?” she muttered.

Musical Outro - Gouge Away, by The Pixies

[Acadian]

Uh-oh, beetle pie is the piece de resistance? Yum.

By Dibella’s silky breeches! I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jane act so. . . ‘schoolgirl with a crush-ish’?

Daria, on the other hand, seems to have her daggers out for Celegorn. Even as she realizes that her mouth is generally her own worst enemy, Daria can’t stop atagonizing Celegorn. I can understand her reservations about the Bosmer’s notable smoothness, but it’s like she has no brakes or impulse control. Looks like she’s going to screw this up just as fully as she did the Armand job gig. And, yup, she does just that. . . abandoning Jane who asked for her ‘chaperone’ help. And given Jane’s uncharacteristic infatuation with Celegorn, Daria’s counterbalance is just what Jane needs. . . just not quite so. . . unleashed on a path of destruction.

[SubRosa]

I guess we should hope that Daria is not her usual charming self this time...

It's not a Dunmer meal without that good old beetle pie!

“Vivec’s a place where the corrupt rise to the top and exploit the system to stay there. So no, not a big adjustment at all.”
Just like back home in Cyrodiil.

So Jane seems to really be taken by the young Master Celegorn. And I am sure that is one reason why Daria was so deadset against him right from the start. I think Daria has some deep-seated jealousy and fears that someone is going to take Jane away from her. Which is understandable given that Jane is literally her only friend. Or at leas she was until the last time she acted like an ass.

So Daria just decided to double down again. *sigh*. She really seems bent upon self-destruction here. At this point, I don't think even Kavon would put up with her in the Fighters Guild.

[WellTemperedClavier]

Sorry for my usual update schedule being off.

@Acadian - Beetle pie is high cuisine by Morrowind standards!

You might have. Jane was pretty keen on that rich Cyrodiilic Dunmer who visited Balmora many episodes ago. A lot of fans have noticed that Jane tends to go a little overboard when she really likes something.

And Daria, of course, can't stand Celegorn.

@SubRosa - Daria? Not her usual charming self? Why, I never!

You are correct. It's something you see in the show, too, but I put it more front and center for this series. Daria and Jane have a complex relationship, one which I found a lot more interesting than a love triangle.

Episode 30: The Cantons of Vivec

Chapter 6

Daria was halfway through her cup of mazte when she finally accepted how foolishly she’d behaved that evening.

Maybe it didn't matter. Things would have fallen apart sooner or later, anyway. Jane wouldn’t put up with Daria’s constant obnoxiousness, any more than mom would put up with a daughter who burnt bridges with a pyromaniac’s zeal. But the fact remained that Daria was stuck in Vivec with barely any cash.

She didn’t fancy the idea of sleeping rough again.

Finishing her drink, Daria bought another. Mazte at least made her situation seem slightly less scary. She sat at the Elven Nations Cornerclub in the Hlaalu Canton, surrounded by soberly dressed outlander merchants going over accounts or discussing business in the low tones of people haggling over the very last septim. That she’d found her way there from St. Olms counted as a small victory, at least.

Maybe her best bet was to hike over to Ebonheart and beg the Imperial Cult for alms. Do that long enough to save for a sackcloth robe and she could spend her days working as a penitent for Stendarr. Not too different from Synda's fate in the Tribunal Temple.

“Here’s to you, Synda,” she said to herself quietly, “from one horrible person to another.”

Daria raised her cup in mock salute, not caring if anyone saw her toast the empty air in front of her, and then took a drink. Someone sat next to her as she put the cup down on the counter and stared into the foamy brew within.

“Hey, Daria,” came Trent’s voice.

Daria froze. Because of course she’d end up in Elven Nations on a night Trent was playing. Why not draw out the pain a little longer? He might not know what had happened.

“Hi, Trent,” she said, not looking up.

“Figured I might find you here,” he said.

So, he had been looking for her. She sighed. “I suppose that’s the problem when you’ve only been in town long enough to become familiar with a single cornerclub. I guess you heard about what happened at Celegorn’s.”

She finally looked at Trent. No anger or frustration in his face, only the perpetually relaxed expression that came from any major emotional display being too much effort. He ordered a pot of greef and then gave her the same all-knowing half-smile that had captured her heart a few years ago.

“Jane was looking for you in St. Olms. Her boyfriend was, too.”

“Great. Jane’s missing her big show because of me. If she didn’t hate me after lunch today, she definitely will now.”

Trent shook his head. “Nah. She won't miss her show. Anyway, I told her that I’d find you. They’d been looking up and down the waistworks, but I figured you’d go someplace cooler than that.”

“I’m not sure how a bar for bored commercial travelers counts as cool, but okay.”

“Cool’s just a state of mind, Daria. Trust me, I know.”

Stupid though it was, she couldn’t resist smiling at that. His confidence was totally unearned and entirely authentic.

“So, what’s your plan?” Trent asked.

“My plan is to finish this drink. Beyond that?” She sipped and then shrugged. “I guess I’ll hike to Ebonheart and see if I can find someone who needs a scrivener.” Admitting her charity plan to Trent felt a little too pathetic.

“Strike out on your own. Very cool,” he said, with a sage nod. “You know, you can stay with me and Jane if you feel like it.”

“It’s still hard for me to believe that Jane isn’t angry at me.”

“She’s a little mad. But friends get mad at each other sometimes.”

Daria shifted in her seat. “It’s the principle of the thing that’s bothering me.”

“I’ve never met a principal, so I don’t know much about that.”

Daria sighed. “What I mean is that Jane’s been nothing but patient with me. The kids I grew up with turned me away if I said a single wrong word. Now, I meet someone who doesn’t just not mind me, she enjoys spending time with me. But instead of appreciating this, I criticize her and make my problems hers. Jane worked hard to get her career off the ground. Now that she has, the last thing she should have to worry about is offending my ethical sensibilities. Sensibilities which, in all likelihood, are a paper-thin mask for my pride.”

The bartender handed Trent the greef, which he took with a quick thanks. Then he looked at her. “Jane misses you. She’s been talking about you a lot ever since we got to Vivec.”

“Sometimes, I think Jane’s a little too forgiving.”

“That’s her call to make, Daria.”

It was Jane’s call to make. But it didn’t seem right to let her.

“Are you going to see Jane’s show tonight?” Trent asked.

“Uh, I’m guessing Celegorn’s going to be there.”

“Yeah, he will.”

“What do you think of him?”

Trent took a sip. “He’s okay, I guess. Kind of full of himself.”

“That’s putting it mildly. I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin like that.”

“It happens. Jane seemed kind of mad at him today.”

“Mad enough to break up with him?” Daria asked.

“Probably not.”

“I guess that’s her choice. Jane’s showing her personal art at this show, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. She never thought anyone would be interested in that. It’s way cooler than the stuff she does for her boss.”

“She’s a visionary.” Daria took another long drink. “Okay, you talked me into it. I don’t know if I’ll stay after, but I guess I should see this show at least.”

“Very cool.”

“Can you show me how to get there? I don't I trust myself to find this place.”

“Sure,” Trent said. He downed his drink in a single swig, left a few coins on the counter, and led Daria out.

Faint stars gleamed in the purple sky as they emerged from the Elven Nations Cornerclub. With the dome retracted, the plaza that had looked so dark and ominous to Daria upon her arrival now looked like any other upscale Hlaalu neighborhood: tidy, wealthy, and more than a bit stuffy.

She followed Trent as he crossed the big bridge connecting the Hlaalu Canton to the Redoran Canton, the towering bulk of the Foreign Quarter within sight to the north. Something about the scene, the darkening firmament and the fresh spring air, took her back to her first months in Balmora, when the world seemed to consist of hanging out with Jane, longing for Trent, and blessedly little else. As if things were returning to normal.

Except they weren’t. Time moved on. But if Jane forgave her, she’d at least have this night as a reminder of how simple things used to be.

Which reminded her of another difference between then and now.

“Trent?”

“Yeah?”

“You used to travel to gigs all around Vvardenfell. Are you not doing that anymore?”

Trent was silent for a moment. A row of guar-pulled carts rumbled past, leaving a spicy aroma in their wake.

“I’m keeping it local. It’s better that way.”

“I guess I can see that, given that Vivec’s the biggest city in the district.”

Though Jane had said that he only ever played at the Elven Nations, and not very often at that.

“Travel’s not really my thing anymore,” he said in a resigned voice, as they turned left at the second-tier walkway of the Redoran Canton, its broad surface only occupied by a few Dunmer pilgrims kneeling at a saint’s shrine carved into the stone.

Some part of Daria flashed back to the days when she’d wanted to know every last thing about Trent, her ears hungering for his voice, her eyes craving that self-sure smile. He no longer had that pull on her. Now she saw someone hurting and lost, much like herself.

“Saw everything there was to see in Vvardenfell?” she asked, suspecting there was more to Trent’s story.

“Uh…” Trent trailed off as a white-robed and steel-masked ordinator swept past. “Did Jane, uh, tell you that I got robbed a while back?”

Daria nodded. “I remember.”

“I’ve been robbed before, up north. You can’t get too worked up about that. The north’s always been dangerous, so you gotta accept that going in. But these robbers took everything the Spiral had, and they did it in the Ascadian Isles. That’s supposed to be the nice part of Vvardenfell.”

“Nice in the sense that the ugly parts are hidden instead of obvious,” she said.

“Heh, yeah. But it was usually pretty safe to get around. It made me think of that time the nix hound went after you and Jane, back on her pilgrimage. If stuff like that happens here… makes me feel like things are falling apart.”

“How do you mean?”

“Maybe it’s just me. But yeah, I stay in the city these days,” Trent admitted.

“Did you talk to Jane about this?”

“Nah. She’s got enough troubles without worrying about me. I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of her, anyway.”

“Hmm. Well, as a wise man once told me, maybe that’s her call to make.”

Trent was silent for a bit, and then he chuckled. “That is pretty wise. Maybe I should let her make it.”

“Jane’s pretty good at that,” Daria said, her heart lightening as they neared the Foreign Quarter.

Musical Outro - Perfect Situation, by Weezer

[Renee]

Okay, so it's probably like Molag Mar. The top area of that canton is about half open-air. Perhaps they couldn't do this in Vivec since all those other cantons are nearby. The original Xbox's RAM back then was only like 256 mb (I think) which got expanded to 512 when the 360 was released. It would bring that unit to a crawl if all those canton-tops were being processed.

How neat that you've considered the effects of population growth over time. Some of your college instructors would be proud. Since you've noted that Vivec really can't be expanded, does this mean there is any sort of urban sprawl located around Vivec made by the Tamriel Rebuilt team?

Oh, that meteor is a prison, huh? No wonder they chased my gal out of there after she levitated. And yeah, I agree about it being realistic to navigate that confusing city does add to its mystique.

-----------------

I like Trent's lyric-writing process! Now we know how he was able to come up with "Ouch, my face!" Kurt Cobain's lyrics were often written on-the-fly. He'd be in a bar or at a party, and think of one line, such as "He'll put you in a jar, and now you'll think you're happy..." He would write that ONE line on whatever: a matchbook insert, a paperback book half-read, and so on. Later on all these lines would be compiled to make the entire song.

But anyway, doesn't sound like Daria's having much fun here. But at least she's trying something new. Probably better for her to be doing this than stuck back home. See, I bet her mother's really worried now. Serves that dragon lady right! 🐲

Geez, Daria, SHUSH!!! I swear, it's like she goes out of her way to make everyone around her... attempt to be just as miserable with her ideals. I mean, you can't just walk into someone else's lives and expect to amend stuff, especially as you're mooching!

If anything though, you are perfectly capturing the "slacker" vibe, Clav. If you know anything about the '90s, Generation X were mostly called slackers, because that's what a lot of us did--we'd sit around and complain about this and that, often mooching & sponging off those who had jobs and so forth. There were true artists back then, along with those of us who actually worked crap jobs. And there'd also be those who were (as you've noted) cramming illegally into rented homes & apartments, skimping out on rent, but cooking the entire household a huge pot of rice & beans scored after dumpster-diving to make up for this lack of cash input.

Anyway, Jane's discussion with Celegorn is quite revealing. She can't get rid of her friend because she'd be betraying some part of herself, I think.

Jane is doing the "bring a friend along for the date" trick. And this is a valid trick for us ladies if we don't know someone that well. But the fact she's doing this for the date with Celegorn is revealing. Because we all know Daria's going to mess this up in some way.

Wow, Celegorn's got some Surilies! 🍷 Oh gosh, but this is awkward, this date. It is truly cringe-worthy. I mean, geez girl (Daria). Keep this up and pretty soon you're going to be tossed out to become bandit fodder in Addamasartus.

Ah, the Pixies! What a great band. Gosh, I loved them back in the day.

Daria was halfway through her cup of mazte when she finally accepted how foolishly she’d behaved that evening.

Maybe it didn't matter. Things would have fallen apart sooner or later, anyway.

Heh, does she think? Truly destructive, and she knows it.

“I’m keeping it local. It’s better that way.”

“I guess I can see that, given that Vivec’s the biggest city in the district.”

Wow. She replies without being sarcastic or demeaning in some way, for once! Maybe she's getting tired from the drink. In fact, the whole latter conversation with Trent, she is being more considerate.

Now, let's see this art show.

This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 24 2023, 07:56 PM

[Acadian]

Drowning her troubles? Be careful with the matze, Daria. I don’t think much good comes from more than one mug. It's good that Daria realizes how counterproductive her actions have been. She just needs to take that information to heart and actually change how she does things some.

And there’s Trent, a most welcome rescue. And with some sage advice even. Whew, glad she’s going to that show, and with an escort. Daria even gets to return the favor (some sage advice) to Trent over his apparent fear of leaving the ‘safety’ of the city.

Okay, Daria, going to show support for Jane’s art is a good first step. Trent’s company is a bonus. Don’t let your mouth sabotage you. Again.

[SubRosa]

Glad to see you back. I was starting to wonder if you had joined the Fighters Guild, and become a wandering mercenary with Kavon...

Well at least Daria is willing to admit to herself that she has a pyromaniac's zeal for destroying her relationships. Of course whether she is willing to ever outgrow the teenage edgelord stage is another matter entirely.

Hey its Trent! He's usually got a pretty chill, level head on his shoulders. When he's awake.

“Cool’s just a state of mind, Daria. Trust me, I know.”
I trust him, because he does.

Trent's decision to stop traveling adds a definite ominous undertone to the story. Here is a regular Joe who has noticed that things in Vvardenfell have gotten more dangerous. Something is happening. To quote G'Kar from Babylon 5:

"I searched for days, going from one system to another. Then, on dark deserted worlds, where there should be no life, where no living thing has walked in over thousand years, something is moving, gathering its forces, quietly, quietly, hoping to go unnoticed. We must warn the others, Na'Toth. After a thousand years, the darkness has come again."

Let's just hope that there is a Joan of Arkay out there in Daria's world, or a January, or a Blood Raven...

This ends on a hopeful note, in spite of Trent's vague yet dire warning of impending doom. Let's just hope that Daria can go at least a few hours without putting her foot in her mouth again...

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Renee - Yeah, just like Molag Mar! I'd actually totally forgotten about that place because I almost never go there. It's like Vivec City's forgotten sibling.

Heh, hopefully. It's just more fun to think about these things when you try to imagine actually living there. Tamriel Rebuilt doesn't actually touch any of Vvardenfell, though there is an associated project, Heart of the Velothi, which is working on remaking Vvardenfell and having it more up to TR standards. Personally, I'm pretty happy with Vvardenfell as is, but they have done some pretty interesting things.

I will say it's surprisingly tricky to try and expand the cities that are already in the game. Like to expand Balmora you almost have to completely change the surrounding landscape to make room. Plus, Vvardenfell's pretty small; the game uses limited draw distance and barriers (mountains, trees) to make it seem bigger than it is. Thus, if you make Balmora bigger, you end up unwittingly revealing the map's smallness.

I think a lot of songwriters do that. You never know when it'll strike. In the show, Trent's often rambling on about lyrics he just thought up of while sitting around.

And yes, Daria's still struggling with that. She's at the stage in her life where she can clearly see the problems around her, but isn't old enough for anyone to take her seriously, or experienced enough to know when to choose her battles. Adolescence is tough.

I was a little too young to participate in slacker culture, but I was aware of it. There might also have been a little less pressure to jump onto a career back then, because even though the early '90s were pretty bleak, economically speaking, that was small potatoes compared to what would happen in 2008.

Yeah, I think you're right. Daria has done a lot for Jane, as well.

The drink probably helped Daria relax a bit, but it's also the realization that she keeps doing stuff like this. She known for a while that she needs to get her act together, but now's when she starts to figure out how.

@Acadian - That's basically what this scene is. After sinking her IAS job with Armand, blowing up at Jane for moving, running off with a noble, and then blowing up at Celegorn, she's finally figuring out how to step back. Misanthropy's a comfort for Daria because it lets her assume the worst and not engage. But her growing up means that she realizes she's not necessarily that much better than the folks around her, so she shouldn't judge quite so readily.

Trent's a slacker, but there is some hard-won wisdom in his words.

@SubRosa - Heh, no I'm still here. Things just got a little hectic for me.

Yup, Trent's the expert on cool.

And good on catching the deeper meaning behind Trent's story. Things are falling apart. History doesn't stand still. The 1990s (or 3E 420s) can't last forever. Trent might not express it as eloquently as G'kar did, but he's sensing some of the same problems.

The epilogue will show where most of the characters end up over the next 200 years of tumult.

Episode 30: The Cantons of Vivec

Chapter 7

On most nights, the Black Shalk Cornerclub would have looked much like the Elven Nations Cornerclub and probably every other cornerclub in Vivec.

But when Daria and Trent arrived that night, the place had garbed itself in art. Not the quotidian portraits and nature scenes of the Empire, nor the jagged saints and gods of the Dunmer, but images and textures from the souls of a restless avant-garde.

Most of it, in Daria’s opinion, wasn’t that good. And judging by the dutiful, incurious expressions on some of the two-dozen or so visitors, she wasn’t alone in her opinion. Yet one artist stood out, to her and the others. A full half of the attendees crowded around Jane’s table, their dreary eyes suddenly lively as they studied, with fascination, the works she’d kept secret for so long.

Jane presided over them like a goddess greeting her petitioners. Her usually guarded expression glowed with untrammeled enthusiasm as she answered their questions and told them what went into the creation of each work.

“I guess I always had one foot in the Empire and the other in Morrowind. Blending the styles came naturally,” she explained to a Nibenese Imperial cloaked in scarlet silk.

Her eyes caught Daria’s gaze for a moment. Daria offered a faint smile, and Jane raised her eyebrows to let her know that she saw, that all was forgiven.

This was what Jane could be. Artists weren’t rare in Tamriel. There was no lack of nobles and merchant princes and prospective brides who wanted their likenesses captured in paint. But Jane did more. She followed her vision and, what’s more, got people to follow with her.

Daria realized that things would never be the way they once were. Maybe that was a good thing. Greatness had always been inside Jane, but she’d have never been able to let it out if she’d clung to the past in her little apartment. Jane had adapted to the world while staying true to herself. If she could do it, maybe Daria could walk a similar balance. Stasis asked for nothing, but offered nothing in return.

“Hey, Daria. Glad you showed up. Me and Jane were pretty worried.”

It was Celegorn, leaning against the wall by canvases of abstract colors that no one seemed to care about.

Daria still didn’t like the guy, but that wasn’t Jane’s problem.

“Hey. Uh, I suppose I owe you an apology.”

He waved it off. “Don’t sweat it. I shouldn’t have needled you like that. Kinda my way, I guess, but sometimes I need to know when to shut up. Jane lectured me on that.”

“Think you’ve learned?”

“Nope. I’ll always shoot my mouth off. But I do know when to say sorry. So yeah, my bad.”

“It’s all right. Regardless of what we think of each other, we should probably keep things civil for her sake.”

“Yeah.” He looked over to Jane, his eyes alight with awe. “She’s amazing. I knew that everyone here would go to her paintings. No shame in being beaten by her.”

Daria took a closer look at Celegorn’s work: bold swaths of color, mostly yellows and greens, that didn’t seem to show anything in particular.

“Your work is, uh, colorful,” Daria said.

Celegorn laughed. “Go ahead, tell me what you think. Don’t hold back, I have a thick skin.”

“Hm, maybe you should tell me. I’m not as well-versed with art as you or Jane.” Saying that made Daria feel a little better.

“Alright, what does it look like to you?”

“Colors,” Daria said.

“Exactly. All most of us do is use the great colors nature’s given us to paint these stuffed-up jerks who run the show. Or we try to paint nature, but come on, do we ever succeed? So, I did pure color. Let people see how it looks when it isn’t shackled to something else.”

Daria peered a little closer. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but she noticed a subtle gradient in the greens and yellows, how they clashed in sharp contrast at some points but subtly mingled in others.

“I think I can see it,” she said. “You didn’t mindlessly slather paint onto the canvas. You put a lot of thought into this, intensifying the hues here and there. It's not only yellow and green, but yellow and green in all their varieties.”

“Only some of their varieties, there are way more than what you see here. That’s the idea though, yeah.”

“It’s not my kind of art,” Daria said, looking Celegorn straight in the eye. “But I can see the value in it.”

“Then my mission here is accomplished,” he said, with a smile. He again looked at Jane.

Daria walked around and studied some of the other artists’ work. Some, she had to admit, did nothing for her and probably still wouldn’t after an explanation, like a display of wooden plates skewered on spears put together by a young Nord. Others possessed an undeniable skill and elegance, like the complex abstract patterns done in watercolors by a Khajiit woman. Another display, a set of red and black demon statuettes that a bald Dunmer had carved from volcanic ash, disturbed Daria for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom.

She rarely saw much that was new in the art world. That night, she saw plenty. It still wasn’t what she’d want to hang up in her room. She was probably more old-fashioned than she cared to admit. The safe and the familiar always beckoned. But she could still explore and appreciate the new while rooted in the old.

The crowd around Jane finally cleared, and Daria approached her friend.

“Sorry I ran out on lunch,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Jane said, and suddenly hugged Daria.

Daria stiffened for a moment, not quite sure how to react, but then relaxed. Jane disengaged a moment later.

“I’m sorry Celegorn kept bugging you,” Jane said. “I told him not to.”

“He and I both bear some responsibility with how it turned out. We were talking a few minutes ago, and I think we’ve put aside our differences. I can tolerate him, at the very least.”

Jane glanced over to Celegorn, who was chatting with Trent. “So what’s your honest opinion of the boy?”

Daria gathered her thoughts. She’d be honest with Jane. And honest to herself, as well.

“Celegorn’s the kind of fun-loving person who’ll always grate on my nerves. I don’t think he’s a bad guy, though. He seems genuinely impressed with you as an artist, and he’s aware of his occasionally obnoxious behavior and makes some attempt to ameliorate it.”

Jane crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting soft on me, Morgendorffer.”

“I’d attack his fashion sense, but that’s probably more my sister’s field. On a more serious note, he does seem to take a free-wheeling approach to life, so I don’t know if he'll be one for commitment.”

“Oh, I don’t expect anything too long-term from him,” Jane said. “Neither of us is going to be in Vivec forever, anyway. But hey, my house is always yours: in Balmora, Vivec, or any other city where I make my home.”

Daria shivered. She’d done nothing to earn such a good friend. Maybe that was the beauty of it.

“Uh, thanks,” she managed to stammer out. “I’ll find some work in the Foreign Quarter so I can contribute a bit.”

“Take your time. You know, I was thinking about what you said about the public housing, how it’s crummy for me to use something intended for people who need it.”

“It’s not a great situation, but from what you tell me it sounds like you didn’t have a choice.”

“I don’t. But I do earn more than enough money to buy food from the vendors. Me and Trent went to the public kitchens because we could and, well, because I’m still kind of scared to spend money. That’s not an excuse, though.”

“Your half-hearted commitment to a more ethical lifestyle is an inspiration to us all,” Daria said.

“Yeah, I’ll have to do some more Hlaalu-esque things to make up for it. Embezzlement? Blackmail? Ooh, I like the sound of blackmail,” Jane said, rubbing her hands together.

“Given your clientele, I’m sure you’ll never be lacking for sources.”

“Thanks for coming to the show, Daria. You were with me when I did a few of these paintings. Didn’t seem right to show them without you.”

Jane gestured at one of the works on her table, showing a feminine figure tucked into a fetal position and drawn in thick black lines, surrounded by concentric strokes that somehow suggested both comfort and restraint. Daria did remember whiling away a spring afternoon on the balcony as Jane had painted that very image. She understood it immediately: Jane as herself, both Dunmer and Cyrodiilic but neither, and glorious for that uncertainty.

“I’m glad I’m here. It occurs to me that I’m not always the easiest person to be friends with. And that, in a lot of ways, I’m actually pretty lucky to have you,” Daria said.

“You’re not as unlikable as you think. You’ve made other friends, too: Jolda, Amelia, that random Ashlander kid… hell, you had a noble boyfriend, and you broke up with him, not the other way around!”

“You mean my efforts at flinty misanthropy were doomed to failure?”

“’Fraid so, Daria.”

Daria smiled. “I guess I can live with that.”

Musical Outro - Vincent, by Don McLean

[Acadian]

Quotidian – nice!

Wow! Without copping out Daria actually thought before she spoke and restrained her mouth. Words have consequences and she is taking more care in choosing them. You go, girl!

And it was gratifying to see how graciously Jane rewarded Daria’s effort. These two really do like each other. It is easy to see why Daria likes Jane. Jane’s affection for Daria is a bit more mysterious to understand but Daria would be wise not to look a gift quar in the mouth.

[SubRosa]

It is great that Jane has this moment to show off her creations and get noticed for who she is.

I don't like the sound of those red and black demon statues. Better have one of the Blades follow that one. It sounds like a sleeper has awoken...

It is nice to see that for once Daria has learned to reign in her pyromaniacal desire to destroy every relationship around her. It looks like she's managed a happy ending here. Honestly, I think the Tribunal should make Jane a saint for her efforts here, because she has a patience of one.

[Renee]

The Heart of Velothi sounds interesting, for sure. 🗿 Although I'm not writing, I do still play some Morrowind here and there. Everytime we go to Vivec I can't help but imagine making the place even more vibrant. I've added some NPCs who randomly wander around, as well as barrels and crates and stuff. But it'd take a lot of work to make the place truly feel like an urban center. Like it does in this story.

Then again, some of the original city's feel (its sparse alien feel, that is) would get lost as more and more stuff gets added. Ach.

The main things to remember about Gen X and slackers is that we didn't sit around calling ourselves that. I'm just using those terms because that's the best way to refer. My parents were almost proud to refer to themselves as former hippies, for instance. ☮ There was no pride in saying "well, so like, yeah, I'm a slacker," not that we'd even say such a thing!

We had nothing grand to rebel against. No great war being forced upon us from up high to protest, Affirmative Action (for what it was worth) had long been in place; I never EVER have seen any overt displays of racism for instance, yet we'd sit around complaining and whining about this or that anyway; the endless whining you hear about is not an unwarranted sterotype! --- Also this: Our parents' generation already made all the great music; any music we made would often get termed "derivative". Grunge was really a mixure of rock, metal, pop, and punk, for instance.

And also this. When our parents went to college, this could actually mean something. My father graduated on Friday and had a tidy job as an engineer waiting for him on Monday, and from I understand, this was how it was! In comparison, graduating in the '90s did not necessarily mean you were set for life. Plenty of folks I knew who had degrees in this or that, yet they'd wind up working in an office cubicle, manning phones and making just enough money for next week's rent. Or at Starbucks or Quiznos or Kinkos.

We still hear stories like this today of course, although my daughter's generation at least has the benefit of Mad Technology to exploit. Technology (smartphones and such) rule every facet of her life, much as I hate to say it. It is possible to build an entire career, or at least a portfolio, with those damn pocket computers.

Ooh, that's another thing. The Internet was brand-new during the '90s, I think it changed the way a lot of us interacted and planned our lives. The stock market was also strong (yet really corrupt) not that this mattered to most of us. Society had this odd mixture of being really intolerant from some of our elders, while also becoming way more expressive. Watch any talk show from those times: Jenny Jones, Montel, Geraldo, Ricki Lake, Sally, they all had this theme as a topic. An example: back then, somebody who'd walk around with green dreads and a nose piercing might get sneered and jeered at for being a "freak". Nowadays, such a person is so normal, she might not warrant a second glance. What we now know as LGBTQ also became more accepted overall, although this depends which facet of society we're talking about.

Hee hee, sorry, I just wrote a novel! It's just that Outlanders is partially based on this phase of history, so I hope you don't mind.


Anyway, let's get into it. We've got a history of shows going wrong in this story, so I'm really hoping this art show doesn't turn into a slanderous mess like the Balmora Fashion Show recently did, and also the fight club thingie which turned into an outright brawl.

Doesn't seem so bad. Right, most of what Daria's looking at sounds like Modern Art here on Earth. It's hard to get. While most of the traditional art she's been used to seeing (which isn't at this show) sounds like Realist movement stuff. Landscapes and portraits and such.

Nice, it sounds like Jane's getting a lot of positive attention. People really like her work. I like that she's courting those who have come to her section of the cornerclub. She's not being standoffish and aloof like some artistes.

Aw.

“Exactly. All most of us do is use the great colors nature’s given us to paint these stuffed-up jerks who run the show. Or we try to paint nature, but come on, do we ever succeed? So, I did pure color. Let people see how it looks when it isn’t shackled to something else.”

Damn. Celegorn just nailed it. So this is what some artists are doing, when they wring a canvas with nothing but a few basic strokes. Is this a conclusion you came to on your own, Clavier, or I'm wondering if some real-life Modern Artist said something similar?

The red & black statuettes sound wicked!

Good to hear Jane and Daria have made up. I have a feeling it's going to last. *Renee sheds a tear*

This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 30 2023, 01:49 PM

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Acadian - Yup, I think Daria turned a corner here. And as she learns from Celegorn, sometimes people have good reasons for doing things that might seem silly.

I think the reason Jane is so forgiving of Daria is that, on some level, Jane likes to be needed. The world doesn't seem to have much place for her: her parents basically abandoned her, she's an outlander who's also a Dunmer and thus can't perfectly fit in either camp, and she's had to struggle on her own. But when she does get some sense of place, she's quite protective of it.

And, as Daria herself notes, she doesn't deserve a friend as good as Jane. But the beautiful thing is, she has one anyway.

@SubRosa - It's been a long journey. But this is a golden moment for Jane.

Yeah, the demon statues are another example of the growing darkness.

Yes, Jane does deserve sainthood. But probably from a better set of deities than the Tribunal.

@Renee - It's a tough needle to thread. There are definitely flaws with Morrowind's visual presentation, but because of how everything's connected, there's no easy way to change it up. Change one element, and you have to change a dozen others, as well.

Then you get into issues like the fact that the interiors of Hlaalu buildings almost never match the exteriors! This is something Tamriel Rebuilt is quite stringent about, but the base game didn't even consider it.

I know that two of the big Gen X slacker films were Clerks (which I've seen) and Slackers (which I haven't). But yeah, a lot of these labels get applied by the previous generations, so it doesn't surprise me that no one referred to themselves as slackers. Hell, I even remember a few scare pieces about Gen X, though I can't recall any details.

I was a kid through the early and mid '90s, so a lot of the bigger cultural trends passed me by. While I was aware of the Cold War ending and what that meant, I didn't have any conscious memory of fearing nuclear annihilation. As you say, there didn't seem to be any big threats on the horizon. Sure, we kids might intermittently worry about the environment, but that all felt pretty abstract (though it sure doesn't these days).

So yeah, it was kind of a weird time. No obvious struggle. But there were lots of less obvious problems that would become more obvious in the recent decades.

Modern art took me a while to appreciate. I'm kind of like Daria here; I tend to prefer traditional, representational art, but that doesn't mean I dislike modern art. It just doesn't usually spark as strong of a reaction from me (I'm more likely go to: "Oh, that's interesting" and move on). My personal favorite artist is Ilya Repin.

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

I came up with that explanation on my own, since I wanted something tailored to Celegorn's personality. Glad it resonated!

The red and black statuettes are the ash statues you sometimes find in-game. So yeah, bad news, even if Daria's not cognizant of exactly how.

Yeah, Daria and Jane have buried the hatchet. Now Daria just has to patch things up with her family...

Episode 30: The Cantons of Vivec

Chapter 8

The weekend felt like old times again and was all the sweeter for being so very temporary. Done with her show and with her boss’s latest assignment, Jane finally had time. So she and Daria chatted aimlessly in the apartment and explored Vivec, the city’s monumentalism no longer so bleak.

On Loredas, Daria accompanied Jane to the Temple Canton where she gave thanks for her success. Jane entered its shadowy and smoky confines with her head bowed and her hands cupping a glass-like coda flower to give as a symbolic offering, and a pouch full of coins as a more concrete offering.

Daria waited outside, and wondered how things were going back in Balmora.

Sundas evening took them back to the Elven Nations Cornerclub, where Trent tried out a few questionable tunes to an audience that (save for Daria and Jane) didn’t give a damn, and it was wonderful.

Jane stopped by the Olerlo Manor on Morndas morning, and returned at noon with a sealed paper in her hand and a curious expression on her face.

“Hey, Daria. A courier came by with a letter for you.”

Daria looked up from her book, the slender twelfth volume of Perus’s Interviews with Tapestrists that had been left behind by a previous occupant.

“For me?”

“Yeah, there’s a note here from Quinn telling me to ask Serjo Olerlo to send this letter to the Sloans,” Jane said, handing Daria the paper. "I guess she still thinks you’re with Tomal.”

From Quinn? Suddenly faint, Daria held the letter up to the nearest sconce.



Daria –

I hope you get this letter. I’m sure you’re having a lot of fun with Serjo Sloan. Serjo Talori tells me he’s one of the most eligible bachelors in Vvardenfell.

Mom and dad know Serjo Sloan’s a great guy, and that his family is honorable. But you’re their oldest daughter and you didn’t even say goodbye! That’s why they’re worried about you. They think they did something to make you run away, and they’d really like to see you.

I want to see you, too. I know we don’t always get along, but you’ve always been like a rock for us. Mom gets so driven and work-obsessed, and you know how dad kind of flies off the handle sometimes. And me, well I’m pretty great, but maybe I do spend too much time and money on stuff like fashion. You’re stable, though. You keep things going.

No one here is mad at you (well, mom is a little, but she’ll get over it). We just want to see you again. If you get this, please come home just to say hi. It’d mean a lot.

- Your sister, Quinn



Daria read it aloud, each word sinking in with the weight of gold. Jane gave a long, low whistle when Daria finished.

“Told you,” Jane said. “You’re more likable than you think.”

“I didn’t expect this.” It couldn’t have been easy for Quinn to arrange the letter. Did mom and dad know she’d hired a courier?

“What are you going to do?”

Daria thought about it for a bit. It had seemed like such a clean break, too. But maybe that had been too easy.

Maybe, as she had with Jane, she should give her family a chance to decide if they wanted her around.

“I should probably go back,” Daria said. “Quinn’s right. I never said goodbye.”

Jane nodded. “Family can be a pain. But yours isn’t that bad, all things considered. At least they talk to you.”

“I do owe them an explanation. And right when I was starting to get comfortable in Vivec, too.”

Part of her didn’t want to leave, not so soon after things had gotten back to normal with Jane. Except they wouldn’t stay that way. The world moved on and she couldn’t—she shouldn’t even if she could—hold it back.

“You know, Daria, I’m free this week. What if I went back with you? There are always silt striders going between Vivec and Balmora, so it’ll be easy to get a ride. Plus, I should probably check in on J’dash.”

“You coming along would provide a welcome distraction from dreading the talk with my mom. I’ll need someone to guide me to the strider port, anyway. When can you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning’s fine. Think you’ll be ready by then?”

“Probably not. But I won’t let that stop me,” Daria said.



The End

Musical Outro - A Down and Dusky Blonde, by God Help the Girl

Okay, one more regular (albeit 8-chapter) episode! After that, the epilogue and the side story.

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Jul 30 2023, 03:50 PM

[Acadian]

Last episode we were struck by both Daria’s ability to think before she talks and what a great friend Jane is. This episode continued that with Daria managing to not antagonize her friend and Jane volunteering to travel to Balmora with her friend.

Wow, if Daria can properly tend her friendship with Jane and patch things up with her family, that’d be awesome. I’m confident that Daria’s family will not act like. . . Dunmer.

Quinn’s letter was touching while also pure Quinn and fabulously done.

[SubRosa]

Sounds like a pretty good time. Amazing how one's vibe can change how a place feels. I can just imagine Trent's show. Probably either Ow! My Face! or Icebox Woman. Truly, underappreciated genius.

Quinn's letter comes out of the blue. I suspect that it will crystallize Daria's future plans. What little she may have of them. It's time for her to go back to Balmora and face her family. After that, well I doubt she will have any idea of what she is going to do.

And time for two bus strider tickets! Like Acadian, I am sure her family will not act like Sydna's. Mom will be mad, but overjoyed and relieved at the same time. Dad's eye might pop back into his skull. And Quinn will actually be glad to have Daria around. Though she is still not likely to acknowledge that she is her sister at school...

[WellTemperedClavier]

@Acadian - That's one advantage Daria has: her family is relatively functional, and not weighed down by ancient rules and ancestral resentments.

@SubRosa - Like John Milton wrote: "The mind is its own place and, in itself can make a heaven of hell or a hell of heaven." Vivec isn't the most pleasant city, but it does have its charms. And now, Daria's in the right mood to appreciate them.

And yeah, Daria's anxiety regarding her family is in her own head. Yes, they'll be upset she left... but mostly they'll just be happy she's okay.

Episode 31: Bad Day in Balmora

Chapter 1

Red Mountain fumed in the north and Balmora’s people fumed in the streets.

Maiko stood at attention behind a wooden barricade as what looked like half the city yelled invective at their leaders. Would be nice if some of those leaders came down out of High Town, maybe listened to what the folks in the street had been trying to tell them for the last five months. If they'd done that, he and his buddies might not have had to haul ass out of bed that morning to play cop.

He glanced over at Sergeant Prajeau, who stood at the front of the small legion detachment. Prajeau wasn’t much older than Maiko and brand new to Morrowind. Not a bad guy—wore the uniform well and stood up straight—but didn’t know how to hide the fear in his eyes. He’d spent his whole career so far on the Gold Coast with nothing worse to worry about than looking good on parade.

The heat didn’t help. Maiko’s steel helmet was already hot enough to cook on. A bead of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose, lingered at the tip, and then spattered on his cuirass. It was the kind of weather to make a bad mood worse, and it had been like this since yesterday, when scorching winds that felt like sandpaper on skin first howled through the foyadas.

“You can’t take any more from us, you bastards!” yelled a dirty-blonde Nord woman in a shellbreaker’s ichor-spattered apron.

Maiko eyed the Hlaalu guards on the scene. They were scared kids in armor. Like him, but not trained. Not trained well, anyway. Wouldn’t take much for them to lash out and make the situation way worse. It was a miracle that hadn’t already happened.

“Trooper Maiko,” Prajeau said, in a quiet voice. “Captain Varro said you know this place pretty well.”

“I’ve been here awhile, sir.”

“What’s your assessment? Is the city about to… blow up?”

Varro should’ve given Prajeau a better briefing.

“Too early to say, sir.”

“But you have sources in the city, right? Captain Varro said you did.”

“My sources say that people are angry because the taxes on goods coming into the city mean they don’t have enough to get food, sir.”

Said source being Andra. Maiko had spoken to her last week.

Prajeau blinked like he was processing the information. “They can’t be crazy enough to fight the Empire, can they?”

“I don’t think they want to fight, but they are hungry. These are local taxes, so they’re mad at Great House Hlaalu, not at the Empire, sir.”

Prajeau shook his head. “They look pretty mad. Gods, this province is a mess. Guess that’s why they sent us.”

“Yes, sir!” Maiko knew better than to voice his actual thoughts on the matter.

It was almost noon. Most of the city went on with business as normal, but it wouldn’t take much for that to break down. Jolda was probably okay. Her family lived close to High Town, and he knew the guards would crack down hard if the protest reached the richer parts of Balmora. Which, of course, was exactly the kind of reasoning that made people go out onto the streets in the first place.

Maiko’s vision caught something hurtling through the air, followed by a dull clang. Prajeau grunted and fell to his knees, blood streaming from his temple. Then he pitched face-forward onto the street.

With that, Maiko became acting sergeant. He did not hesitate.

“Shields up! Weapons sheathed! Do not escalate unless I give the order!” he bellowed, as the city erupted around him.



*********



The first hint that something was wrong came from how few stevedores manned the strider port’s loading platform as Daria disembarked, Jane a few steps behind her. The place usually bustled with workers running like ants to load or unload the thorax nets and cargo shells. The scant crew held up everything else. Red-faced traders and angry passengers crowded up at the edge, demanding to know what took so long.

She heard it, too, a dull and distant roar that periodically broke over the noise around her. The sound of a lot of people yelling in unison. Worse than that, the hot winds from the north, carrying swirling specks of tainted ash.

“You hear that?” Jane asked, craning her neck to look over the rooftops.

“If I were to guess, I’d say those are probably the tax protests.”

“Oh, so those are still going on,” Jane said, a note of approval in her voice. “I don’t think the Hlaalu will listen, but I hope it makes them squirm a little.”

“I’m sure they’re squirming plenty in their silk-upholstered furniture.”

A sheen of sweat covered Daria’s face by the time she reached street level. Nothing like Red Mountain’s vulcanism to make spring feel like summer, but she guessed that was her fault for living so close to an active supervolcano.

“Any idea on what you’re going to tell your parents?” Jane asked, as they trudged past the Council Club, where a bunch of Dunmer toughs hung out around the door with sheathed daggers on display.

“Let’s see: I caused a scandal, ruined my best job opportunity, missed about a month of school, and dated one of Vvardenfell’s richest noble scions and then dumped him without getting anything from it. I’m starting to think I should claim amnesia and see if that gets me a clean slate.”

“Want me to knock you on the head for that extra bit of believability?”

“Hit me hard enough, and maybe I'll go back to my Plan B of seeking a life of penitence in the Imperial Cult.”

“You’ll be okay, Daria. Your family doesn’t hate you.”

Daria sighed. “It was a lot easier to believe that when they weren’t so close.”

“Just be honest. They already know about the scandal and the thing with Armand, and they’ve had a month to cool down. As for Tomal, your mom and dad will probably be glad you got out of that safely.”

They reached the Commercial District riverbank which finally gave them a view of the protest. It was enormous. Hundreds of people vented their anger, scalps sizzling under the hot sun. This was far bigger than the ones she’d seen in previous months.

And like that, it boiled over.

The crowd suddenly moved forward as if a single collective entity, a mass of frustration pushing against its tormenters. Bottles and rocks flew, breaking on or bouncing off the beetle-armored guards standing watch on the rooftops. Some of the protestors at the edges split, running away and keeping their heads low.

“Now,” Jane said, taking Daria’s hand, “we should focus on getting us out of this safely. Come on, let’s go J’dash’s.”

Daria followed as Jane hurried toward the Foreigners’ Span, but she kept her eyes on the protest, fear growing in her heart as chaos spread through her hometown.

Musical Outro - World Destruction, by Time Zone