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> Outlanders (Morrowind Crossover)
WellTemperedClavier
post Oct 22 2022, 04:32 PM
Post #221


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@Acadian - I imagine the IAS has a lot of the same issues that plague any institution. But it has the advantage of being smaller and a lot more focused than, say, the Guild of Mages (considering the guild has an office in nearly every medium-sized or bigger city in Tamriel, it's pretty darn huge). So yeah, probably a decent fit.

The friendship between Daria and Jane is the core of the show, and thus is the core of this series as well. Jane's always the one who can bring Daria back to reality. Not that she's prone to flights of fancy, but she can get pretty wrapped up in her own head at times.

Yeah, Surilie Brothers isn't high-end. But I figured it'd be pricier in Morrowind than in Cyrodiil simply due to the shipping fees.

She'll be seeing Arkngthand in this chapter, so get ready...


@SubRosa - You are correct. Tiber Septim got the Numidium from Morrowind, and it was powered by Zurin Arctus, his battlemage. The Numidium was a weapon of such power that it's mere presence warped reality, causing multiple versions of it to simultaneously exist before settling on one. Regardless, when it was over, the Aldmeri Dominion had been destroyed.

Supposedly, Tiber Septim planned to use the Numidium to destroy some of the other noble families in Tamriel so that he could cement his power, but Zurin destroyed the Numidium to prevent him from doing so.

And, of course, the Numidium was reactivated in recent memory, as per the events of The Elder Scrolls II: Daggerfall. Once again, a bunch of different realities converged and coexisted before falling back into one, changing the political situation in and around the Iliac Bay. What's more, Jolda and her father would have both still been in Hammerfell at the time this happened. Even if he won't admit it to Daria, finding something like the Numidium is very much on Armand's mind, since he realizes how much power it would confer to the Empire (and how much prestige that would confer to him).

Episode 14: Raiders of the Lost Arkngthand

Chapter 5


“I saw a gear that was really shiny. Maybe if I polish it some more it’ll be good enough for Quinn,” Jonus said, hanging his head low.

Jonus, Julien, and Jeval huddled in their corner of the barracks tent, listening to the winds howl.

“Dumbass, she’s not going to want a gear,” Julien said.

“What else can we get her? All the good stuff’s been packed away and we’re leaving in two days.”

Jeval stared into the flames. He was kind of glad they hadn’t found anything.

“We gotta get her something.” Jonus was adamant.

“Ah,” came a nasal, reedy voice. “It appears that the younger Morgendorffer’s suitors are in quite the quandary.”

Jonus and Julien bolted to their feet as Karl stepped forward, straightening his lapels.

“No! We’re not in a... what did he say we’re in?” Jonus asked.

“A quadrille?” Julien wondered.

Jeval buried his face into his hands. “A quandary!” he said.

Karl smiled. “I know full well what you have planned, and I applaud it! Sometimes, the right bauble is all you need to win the heart of a luscious young lady, and few are as luscious as Quinn. Thus, I have a proposition for the three of you: I run a small business on the side dealing in Dwemer novelties. Alas, I cannot proclaim the nature of my business due to certain narrow-minded statutes—”

“Get to the point,” Jonus said.

“Very well! I haven’t obtained as many choice goods as I’d like, and with the dig site closing up, well, time is running short. However, I have it on good authority that there are some untouched rooms containing wealth beyond your wildest dreams.” Karl spread his arms. “Rubies the size of apples set in crowns of gold! Silken fabrics of unearthly color, their luster undimmed by the passage of time! Necklaces—”

“We’ll do it!” Jonus said.

“Hell yeah!” Julien agreed.

Jeval shook his hands in warning. “Guys, wait! Karl’s telling us to go past those yellow X’s. You know, go into the places the legion hasn’t cleared out yet. That’s like a deathtrap!”

“Au contraire, my good Mer,” Karl said. “These animunculi are noisy constructs. We’ll have ample warning should one object to our presence.”

“This is our chance, man!” Jonus proclaimed.

“I’m in,” Julien said.

Jeval again wondered why he hung out with such morons.



*********



Arkngthand took Daria’s breath away.

She walked in wonder as she descended the path into the Hall of Centrifuge, her way lit by plumes of smokeless flame blooming from broken pipes. Her footsteps echoed on corroded platforms inscribed with jagged characters whose meanings eluded the Empire's best minds. Stone and metal twisted together where the living mountain had pushed through the ancient Dwemer works, not even their craftsmanship a match for time’s inexorable progress.

But greater by far than the sights were the sounds. Arkngthand thrummed with a ceaseless symphony of hisses, clicks, and metallic thumps. The noise emanated from the very walls, as if there remained entire cities worth of machinery yet undiscovered, clanking and churning out of sight. She passed strange machines that belched steam and spun wheels, their pops and clangs joining the unseen orchestra for brief moments before fading into the background hum. At times came rattling groans so loud they shook the very air, and made Daria think of something immense waking from the slumber of millennia.

No one had traversed these halls for over two-thousand years. But they had never been silent.

For once, no smart remark came to her. She was in the presence of something great and terrible. Maybe, she thought, this was what Jane had felt when she’d knelt before the Shrine of Humility.

The feeling lasted up until she found the foreman, a middle-aged woman sitting at a round Dwemer table and engaged in a game of dice with a few workers.

“Come on, be good to mama!” she said, kissing her hand before tossing the dice. Standing up to see her result, she raised her arms in victory. “Yes!”

“Excuse me,” Daria said.

The woman glared at her. “Yeah?”

“You’re the foreman, right?”

“Sure.”

“Armand said—”

“Oh yeah, you’re the one the bossman told me about. Look, we’re pretty much done here.” She pointed to the crates around her, which presumably awaited transportation to the surface.

“Have her copy some more pipe lettering from Heaven’s Gallery,” one of the guys at the table said.

“That works. Grab some papers and charcoal from that stack over there and you’ll be set to go,” the woman said.

“And how do I get to Heaven’s Gallery? Near-death experience?”

“See that door?” She pointed to a round metal portal in the wall. “Go through that, follow the hall, turn left and go through another door, then turn right and keep going until you get to a big yellow X on the wall. If you run into lava or a rockfall, you’ve gone too far.”

“Thanks for clarifying that last bit,” Daria said.

But the woman had already turned her attention back to the game.



*********



“Hmm, I was certain that’d lead us to Heaven’s Gallery,” Karl said, studying his map by the light of a glowing glass tube.

Jeval crossed his arms and leaned against the metal wall. Stupid of him to go in the first place. No surprise that Karl had gotten them lost.

“Come on, you said you knew where it was!” Jonus protested.

Karl cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, rushing me won’t help anything. We’ll be fine as long as we stay calm.”

“Hey, Jeval,” said Julien. “Where do you think we should go?”

Jeval turned to stare at his supposed friend. “How should I know?”

“’Cause this is a Dwemer ruin! You’re a Mer.”

“I’m a Bosmer, not a Dwemer.” Jeval rolled his eyes.

“That’s still Mer!”

“That doesn’t mean anything! The Dwemer lived in underground cities. My people literally live in trees. Plus, I grew up in Cyrodiil the same as the rest of you, so I didn’t even do that!” Jeval shook his head. “I’m about as Mer as you are,” he muttered.

“Arguing won’t help!” Karl said, still staring at the map. “I say we go back the way we came. The entrance to Heaven’s Gallery should be one of these doors we passed earlier.”

“Hey, Karl? How did you get that map? I thought this part wasn’t explored yet,” Jonus said.

“This map does rely on a bit of inference. But don’t all maps?”

They started arguing again. Jeval grimaced. The constant noise of the place was getting to be a real pain. Mer ears picked up a lot more than the ears of Men, so Jeval didn’t know how the Dwemer had put up with it. Clank, rattle, boom, over and over again. It was deafening.

Seemed to be getting louder, too. Jeval kept hearing these big thuds, like someone hitting a huge drum. The floor vibrated with each beat. Real regular, too, one after the other. Like footsteps.

Getting closer.

“Guys,” Jeval warned, “I think we have company!”



*********



The light in the glass tube fascinated Daria the most.

She’d walked past similar glass tubes already. Only in the last room of Heaven’s Gallery, a dark rectangular chamber where metal cabinets and ancient desks held the dust of ages past, did she take a closer look.

This tube, like the others, connected at both ends to an engraved pipe running along the concave walls. Inside was a ring of glass emitting a bright yellow glow, held in place by triangular pieces of green metal.

Only the greatest enchantments lasted for perpetuity. One couldn’t have a proper magic sword or suit of holy armor if the juice fizzled out after a century or two. But enchanting to that degree took a lot of time and effort. Naturally, the Empire reserved such efforts for ostentation.

The Dwemer had possessed enough power to enchant common lights the way the Empire enchanted its greatest symbols. Not once or twice, but over and over again.

With something like that, she’d be able to read as late as she pleased, even during the winter months.

All around her Arkngthand shook and groaned. The air was stale but warm, reminding her of comfortable nights spent by the fire back on Stirk. Darkness and bad eyesight blurred the grime and the dust, and she imagined herself as a Dwemer, the mysteries of the world bound in letters and numbers and laid out before her.

How could the Dwemer simply disappear? Their lights lasted forever but served no one save for dust, animunculi, and the occasional clueless archeologist.

Lost in her reverie, Daria almost didn’t hear the cry for help echoing down the next corridor. Annoyed, she pulled away from the light. Had that been a voice? Or some machine noise she’d mistaken for a cry?

“Hello?” she called out, her voice reverberating against the metal walls.

She took a few cautious steps toward the round door marked with a yellow X. The door was slightly ajar.

“Someone! We need help!” the voice came again.

Daria hesitated. The yellow X meant danger. Surely a quick look couldn’t hurt? Maybe she’d learn something else about the Dwemer beyond Heaven’s Gallery. It’s not like she’d ever get another chance.

Taking a deep breath, Daria pushed against the door. Ancient hinges squealed in protest, but it opened without too much trouble. Ready to jump back in at the first sign of danger, Daria walked onto a small platform sticking out over a narrow shaft that plunged deep into the darkness.

Karl stood in an open doorway on the other side of the shaft. With him were Quinn's three suitors: Jonus, Julien, and Jeval.

“Daria!” Karl exclaimed, his eyes wide. “You have to help us!”

She studied the situation. “I don’t have to do anything. How did you idiots get yourselves stuck there?”

But something wasn’t right. It took a lot to knock the smugness out of Karl. Given their location, it wasn’t too hard to infer what had done that.

The goons might be in danger.

“Some big metal monster found us!” Jeval said.

A legitimate emergency. “Okay. Hold on, I’ll get help—”

The metal around her vibrated as a heavy footfall echoed down the halls, followed by another just like it.

“Crap, it’s getting closer!” Julien (or was it Jonus?) cried.

“Daria, did you see any other doors connecting with where we are?” Jeval asked.

“I don’t know! I’ve never been here before.”

Daria looked down, holding her glasses so they didn’t slip off. Stumbling blind through a Dwemer ruin struck her as a good way to end up dead. A metal panel stuck out of the platform in front of her. Not much, only a foot’s worth. She took stock of her surroundings. Strange though the Dwemer were, she didn’t think they’d have two doorways on opposite ends of a pit unless there was a way for them to connect.

To her left was a small wheel attached to a bunch of pipes.

“Hold on!” she said.

Daria grabbed the wheel with both hands and turned it with what little might she could muster. The ancient mechanism resisted slightly but slowly gave way. As Daria worked the device, the metal sticking out of the platform slowly extended.

“Guys! She’s making a bridge!” Jeval said.

“Hurry up!” Karl begged.

Daria planted her feet on the floor. The footsteps grew louder, an ominous percussion to the mechanical concert all around. She tried not to think of how big it would have to be to shake the whole room like that.

“It’s getting closer!” one of the other boys wailed.

Inch by halting inch, the bridge extended. Each turn of the wheel got harder. Daria gritted her teeth, numbness creeping into her fingers as she tightened her grip. She wasn’t built for this kind of effort.

“Hurry!” Karl cried. “I’ll give you my father’s fortune! I’ll be your servant for life! Don’t let me die!”

The bridge was halfway there. But behind the panicked boys marched a giant that filled the entire hallway, a clanking monstrosity in the rough shape of a human, with steam for breath and weapons for hands.

She groaned from the effort and threw her meager weight on the wheel. Sweat poured down her body and her limbs shook. Still the bridge slowed, like it had gotten caught on something.

“Guys! It’s close enough, we have to jump!” Jeval ordered.

Daria turned in time to see Jeval sail across the gap, landing on the bridge as lightly as a cat.

“You can do it!” he called.

Julien jumped next, followed by Jonus. Only Karl remained, frozen in fear.

“Karl, you have to jump!” Jeval ordered. Julien and Jonus had already run past Daria and into safety. Only Jeval stayed by Daria.

The wheel refused to budge. Daria strained until her body shook, but to no avail.

Impassive and inexorable, the animunculus advanced toward Karl. It raised the enormous mace head that served as a right hand.

Karl leapt as the animunculus swung. The mace slammed into the ground where he’d been standing, the sound of the impact a wrenching metallic scream that shook Daria’s teeth.

Karl hit the bridge face-first, legs dangling over the edge. He started to slide. Jeval grabbed him by the forearms and pulled him up. With a sobbing Karl back on his feet, the two stumbled back to Daria’s side.

“Can you retract the bridge?” Jeval asked. “Here, I can help with the wheel if you’re tired!”

Black spots swum in Daria’s vision. “I don’t think that thing can jump. But go ahead.”

Jeval grunted as he tried to turn the wheel. The animunculus stood silent on the other side, a knight that was all armor and no man. The slits that served as its eyes stared at Daria.

“What exactly do you see when you look at us?” she wondered out loud, as the bridge began its retreat.

Musical Outro - Whispers, from the Quake 1 OST

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Oct 23 2022, 06:13 AM
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Renee
post Oct 22 2022, 08:00 PM
Post #222


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Hey, I'd like to have a giant bronze animunculus as a garden ornament. Keep those pesky kids off our lawn!!! tongue.gif

Daria's drinking Surilies. �Ÿ�� Yummy. I laughed at the part where it says this is so much better than saltice and bad tea.

Wait what?? So Armand is going to try making these robots for the people? This is really hitting home in our modern times.

Okay, that makes sense, about the emperor annexxing the lands so Dwemer tech can be attained. Gotta admit that is clever. But Daria doesn't believe him. Interesting. She don't even care what Karl did anymore. This is a rather political set of chapters and episodes.

Ha ha Jonus is still stuck on Quinn. He wants to get her a gear! laugh.gif Even before I read the next sentence the thought occurred: WHAT is she going to do with some big, heavy gear? But seriously, Quinn must be some sort of hottie. wub.gif Can you link a picture of whichever doll Quinn corresponds to on the show, Clavier?

Cool, I'm glad they're going to go past the yellow X lines. Let's see what happens to these clueless kids. But it does seem Karl is now using them.

QUOTE
Jeval again wondered why he hung out with such morons.


Ha ha ha!

Daria's going into Arkngthand, damn, this is gonna be good. You described the descent into Arkngthand well, all those creepy clanks and steam hissing. Don't know about you, but I'm not jaded to this sort of stuff as I'm gaming. I still get goosebumps after all these years. indifferent.gif

Oh [censored]. I notice that after the three Js jump across the bridge they begin calling Karl to jump as well, while Daria still struggles with the wheel. Funny how they don't seem like they're going to help her.

"Can you retract the bridge?" asks Jeval. "I can help if you're tired!" Um... yeah, do that!

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 23 2022, 04:20 PM


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Acadian
post Oct 23 2022, 08:36 PM
Post #223


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Oh noes, the Three Amigos buy into Karl’s plan. . . what could possibly go wrong?

I love how you captured Daria’s awe inside Arkngthand. No surprise that she is someone who could appreciate it. Like Renee talked about, Buffy also currently delves into numerous large and ominous Dwemer ruins and Daria is right about the sounds – unmistakably eerie and just hissing with unfulfilled mystery.

Meanwhile, Karl and his misguided crew are also trying to navigate Arkngthand. Looking for trouble and, it seems, may have found it. . . .

And back to Daria as the bookworm in her marvels at the concept of permanently enchanted Dwemer lights to read by.

And finally, the somewhat parallel ruin explorer paths intersect as Daria hears Karl calling for help.
“I don’t have to do anything. How did you idiots get yourselves stuck there?”
Daria’s ever-so-perfect response demonstrates a solid command of the principle of Darwenism – though she certainly wouldn’t call it that. Perhaps she realizes the wisdom of not letting any of these young men survive to possibly breed more like themselves? Alas, her slightly buried better nature wins out as she decides to try and render aid.

Holy Indiana Jones! Daria extends an ancient Dwemer bridge and the Three Amigos daringly leap to safety. Oh, and Karl gets to face plant the far side of the bridge and be dragged to safety.

What a fabulous closing as Daria ponders what kind of intelligence animates the terrifying steel Centurion.


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SubRosa
post Oct 24 2022, 02:00 AM
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A gear? Giving Quinn a gear is not going to make any panties drop bro...

Oh boy, Upchuck has a plan, and he found the only three people dumb enough to go along with it. I am sure hijinks are about to ensue here! I also have a sneaking suspicion that this will somehow coincide with Daria's own explorations of the ruins.

I like that even though the Dwemer have been gone for thousands of years, their halls are not silent tombs. Their works have outlived them in every sense, to the point where they are even still active and 'alive' after all these years.

“And how do I get to Heaven’s Gallery? Near-death experience?”
Let's hope not. But you never know.

Oh no, the three musketeers are lost! Who could have seen that coming? laugh.gif It's only a matter of time until Daria blunders into them.

I love how Daria reduces one of the Dwemer's achievements - one that puts the Empire's greatest workings to shame - down to "I could read at night with this'! It really shows her character, and what is important to her.

Uh oh, those footsteps that the Three Amigos + One heard had not been Daria. It was a Steam Centurion! Yikes, and now Daria is in it's way too! Eep!

Very cool set piece you created here of the bottomless pit and the retractable bridge. I think the Dwemer had the same safety inspectors as the Empire (no, not that Empire, I mean the Galactic one from Star Wars). They both have key instruments located on narrow ledges suspended over thousand foot drops, with nary a safety rail in sight.

I am really delighted with this current story arc. It combines classic Daria with classic Morrowind gameplay. Perfection.


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WellTemperedClavier
post Oct 26 2022, 04:29 PM
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@Renee - Hm, I never thought about that but there could be security benefits to having Dwemer lawn ornaments.

I think the bit about Tiber Septim annexing Morrowind for Dwemer tech is basically canon. At the very least, he used Numidium to conquer the Aldmeri Dominion.

The series does get more political as it goes on, so that's no accident. But I do try to put our RL issues through a Tamrielic lens, since obviously that's the context the characters are in.

Heh, sure. Here's how Quinn looks in the show. The animation style is kind of limited, but you can get an idea.

IPB Image

Thanks, I spent a lot of time describing her entry into Arkngthand. Wanted it to have a real impact for the reader, kind of like what you feel as a gamer seeing it for the first time.

@Acadian - I don't know much about archaeology, but I do know that the "kitchen midden" (basically, household goods and junk) is often more useful than treasures and tombs when learning about ancient societies. The stuff they used in their daily lives is foundational: food, tools, etc. The quality and materials give you an idea of how much they produced, how much the average person had access to, what kind of trade was available.

Golden objects d'art are lovely and important in their own right. But they're the exceptions and don't necessarily tell us as much as discarded potshards. Though Daria doesn't know much about archaeology either, she intuitively understands that the Dwemer having constant light is in some ways much more meaningful than their weapons.

Of course, the IAS needs that funding, and the funders are all interested in weapons, so that's where the efforts will go.

@SubRosa - Heh, if Jonus and Julien had any idea on how to comport themselves, they wouldn't get so creepily hung up on Quinn in the first place. Alas, here we are...

Ha! I guess the difference might be that the Galactic Empire's poor safety regulations are a result of general callousness and expedience, while the Dwemer might have some bizarre and convoluted reason that gets more terrifying the more closely you examined it.

And thank you! Combining the two was less tricky than I initially thought it would be. Basically, I focused on staying true to Daria's characters, and true to Morrowind's setting.

Episode 14: Raiders of the Lost Arkngthand

Chapter 6


With the bridge retracted and the door closed, Daria confronted a blubbering Karl.

“I’m curious to know exactly what you four were doing down here. But I can already guess it’s something stupid.” She glanced over to the ashen-faced trio of Jonus, Julien, and Jeval. “Probably something stupid done for the sake of my sister.”

Jonus fell to his knees. “Please don’t tell Quinn about this!”

Julien genuflected. “Please pretend like it never happened, we’ll do anything you want.”

Jeval sighed. “They wanted to lift some Dwemer jewels or something to give to Quinn.”

Still on his knees, an aghast Jonus turned to face Jeval. “Dude, shut up! We’ll all get—”

Daria raised her right hand and motioned for them to settle down. “I already know about Karl’s little embezzlement scheme.”

“Yes, well…” Karl sat on the floor, knees up to his chin and his body quivering. “It appears that I owe you another favor!” He didn’t look at Daria as he spoke, his gaze stuck on the far wall.

“Yes, you do,” she said. “The favor is that you’re going to put back everything you stole from Armand. Do this, and I’ll keep quiet about your thefts and unscheduled visits beyond the safe zone. Also my earlier requirement about you not being a pest still stands.”

Karl squeaked, his eyes bulging. “But I have profits riding on this!”

Daria glowered and he shrank back.

“Of course, as a man of, uh, honorable reputation, I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain,” he said, a little too quickly.

“As for you three,” Daria said, “you can buy my silence by making sure Karl does what he promised.”

Since in the end, she couldn’t force him into doing anything he didn’t want to do. She’d need backup, and unreliable backup was still better than none.

“Why, I’m shocked that you’d think so little—” Karl started.

“Stop talking,” Jeval ordered. “That’s fair, Daria. Hey, uh, so thanks for saving our lives and stuff.”

“Don’t get too excited. I just saw this as an opportunity to accrue more favors. Besides, I don’t want to think about what my sister might do if she doesn’t get her daily dose of attention from you guys. That fact alone makes you more useful to me alive than dead.”

“We were being morons,” Jeval admitted. “So yeah, I’ll make sure Karl returns the goods and doesn’t bother anyone. Personally, I don’t care if you tell Quinn or not. The way I see it, we all owe you.”

Daria smiled at the storm of protestations that erupted from Jonus and Julien.



*********



Jeval had done his job. Daria checked the now-organized artifacts on the last full day and found that the numbers matched up almost exactly. The items listed on the client sheet, at least, appeared to be back in their proper places. She supposed some had been lost to error. Karl probably wasn’t the camp’s only thief, either.

Also, no one had complained about Karl’s sleaziness in a while.

The camp awoke before dawn to finish packing. Dozens of guar-pulled carts, already laden with crates, waited at the bridge while inspectors double-checked everything. Daria had hoped for a quiet moment among the aging towers before she left, but Karl interrupted her right after she finished her breakfast.

“Ah, Lady Morgendorffer,” he said. “If I might have a moment of—”

“In exchange for saving your life, can you at least drop the act?”

He cleared his throat. “I wanted to thank you for saving my life. I was in a little too much shock the other day to offer any coherent gratitude.”

“Just don’t make me regret doing it.”

“I am saddened that Karl’s Magnificent Exports, Inc. never got off the ground. Another shattered dream, I fear. Yet at the end of the day, I’m thankful to still be breathing. Besides, I’m sure I can capitalize on my experiences in Arkngthand.”

“Nothing draws in the crowds quite like a tale of human folly—"

Karl struck a pose, one hand on his breast and the other lifted heavenward. “Hear the tale of Karl in Arkngthand, with visage grim and a sword in hand!”

He bowed and grinned. “It's only a start, you understand, but I’m sure it’ll soon be a cornerclub staple across the Empire!”

“You should remember that I won’t be there to save you from your enraged audience. In fact, I might help them kill you.”

Karl chuckled and waggled his fingers, but a glare from Daria stopped him from commenting on anyone’s feistiness.

She joined up with Jane as the sun rose, dawn’s light soiled by dust and ash.

“Have fun appealing to the vanity of low-level bureaucrats?” Daria asked.

“Sure, that’s how you get to appeal to the vanity of high-level bureaucrats with more moolah,” Jane said. “Turns out Supervisor K’shath lives in Balmora. Now he wants me to paint his wife. I’ll have work for a bit, at least. How about you? Enjoy sharpening those counting skills?”

“Not nearly as much as I enjoyed making myself complicit in the corruption that suffuses every element of the Empire.” She looked at the towers. “But I will admit that, as jobs go, studying the Dwemer doesn’t seem too bad.”

Jane arched an eyebrow. “Why, Daria! Is that something approaching enthusiasm that I hear in your voice?”

“Merely relief that what I thought would be unbearable turned out to be tolerable, which is about as good as things get. Even though the work we do is more fuel for the imperial war machine.” She’d told Jane about her conversation in Armand’s tent.

“You’ll be fueling that war machine with your taxes, anyway. Might as well have fun doing it, right?”

“Yeah, who cares about selling out your ethical framework when there’s fun involved,” Daria said. “Sooner or later though, I’ll have to join one corrupt institution or another. That or become a crazy hermit. Say, know any isolated anchorages where I could slowly sink into an ethically consistent madness?”

“Look around you, Daria!” Jane said, gesturing out to the volcanic desolation. “Morrowind is prime real estate for that kind of thing!”

Daria smiled, and then noticed Armand and Jolda approaching.

“Daria!” Armand said. “I wanted to thank you again for coming along on this. It was a big sacrifice to leave your studies at Drenlyn.”

“It might take me an entire hour to catch up on the week I missed,” Daria said. “But I’m glad I could help.”

Armand nodded. “I know the work you did wasn’t the most interesting. It’s a sad truth that, for lowborn types like us, the only way up is to start at the bottom. But the Empire does recognize skill and dedication, and I’m told you showed both those traits.”

Daria’s cheeks burned at the compliment. Praise always sounded fake to her, but Armand appeared to mean it. She wouldn’t relay this to mom, though. The last thing she needed to hear was mom go on about what a great worker her eldest daughter was.

“Yeah, thanks for helping out,” Jolda added.

“I’m hoping,” Armand said, “that I can get another dig here in the future. There’s no proper IAS office in Balmora, so I’ll be spending the next year going back and forth between here and the provincial HQ in Old Ebonheart. But once I do get another dig going, whether in Arkngthand or some other site, you will have a spot on the team should you want it.”

Make no mistake, Daria told herself. The work she’d do in the IAS would be to help the powerful become more powerful, however indirectly. But as Jane said, taxes did the same. Given Morrowind’s dangers, it’d be better to at least keep her options open.

“Thank you,” Daria said, doing her best to fake gratitude.

Armand smiled. “Great! Not everyone recognizes the importance of the IAS. But the work we’re doing matters. If we do it right, we can have an even greater Empire to pass on to our descendants.”

He clapped her on the shoulder and walked past, Jolda following close behind. The cries of waggoneers rose up as the first of the carts started back on the journey to Balmora.

“Ready to blow this joint?” Jane asked.

“Almost. I want to take one last look at the place.”

Daria lingered on the rocky slope a few moments longer, her gaze on the fallen Dwemer city. Armand’s words echoed in her mind.

“If we do it right, we can have an even greater Empire to pass on to our descendants.”

No doubt the Dwemer had once shared a similar sentiment.

Daria shivered beneath her cloak and hurried down to join the others.



The End

Musical Outro - c0da Numidium, by Liz Katrin

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Oct 27 2022, 08:04 AM
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Acadian
post Oct 26 2022, 08:17 PM
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“Don’t get too excited. I just saw this as an opportunity to accrue more favors.”
- - Daria’s getting scary good at Dunmeri networking, including the preferred currency of favors.

And so concludes a delightful adventure overall in Arkngthand. It was neat to see Daria impressed by something (the Dwemer). Naturally, she doubled down during her departure on the cynicism to compensate. tongue.gif


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SubRosa
post Oct 26 2022, 10:20 PM
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Something stupid this way comes...

See, Daria is networking once again. Mom would be so pleased. Which is not being sarcastic. Mom's a lawyer, and Daria is getting what she wants from people.

“Nothing draws in the crowds quite like a tale of human folly—"
I think you just summed up the entire Daria show with that sentence... laugh.gif

And a truly shivering conclusion as Daria considers the possibility of the Empire going the same route as the Dwemer.


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Renee
post Oct 27 2022, 01:19 PM
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QUOTE
It was neat to see Daria impressed by something


Whoa... Daria actually breaks her usual nonchalant, nonplussed demeanor? laugh.gif

It's funny how afraid the Three Js are of Quinn discovering what they've been up to. I don't get it. I think it'd be romantic if some dorks went to such lengths to prove their affections! wub.gif OTOH, they know Quinn better than I. Maybe they (Or one of them) already tried being casanovas in the past, only to have it all thrown in their face(s).

It's funny though. It's like they're soooo afraid of what the princess thinks!

And look at Karl, he's blubbering. Such a difference between us mortals with our messy fears and feelings, and the giant golden automaton which almost caught them, which is nothing but impassive, nothing but doing the job it was built for. 🤖

Today's song is pretty.


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WellTemperedClavier
post Oct 29 2022, 04:33 PM
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@Acadian - It was fun to finally write about Arkngthand and the Dwemer. Though they're long-gone, their shadow still lives over Tamriel.

@SubRosa - Daria's networking techniques are unorthodox, but effective.

And as we all know, the Empire's in for some interesting times in the near-future. They'll still be around in a few centuries but they won't be in great shape. Time always takes its toll.

@Renee - Daria's not impressed by much, but when she gets into something, she gets into it. Though she might still try to look nonchalant so as to maintain her aloof reputation.

As for the Three Js, I think they were mostly embarrassed that they'd tried and failed (and had to get rescued by Daria). None of those would particularly impress Quinn. Jeval, at least, is growing out of this somewhat.

The singer, Liz Katrin, is also doing some very nice music for the Skywind mod (basically, Morrowind using Skyrim's engine). The ominous feel of c0da Numidium seemed appropriate for finishing this story. It'll be a while before the dark times come for the Empire, but they will come.

Episode 15: The Tell-Tale Art

Chapter 1


Jane bowed before some clients, but not this one, not Haldskyr Bear-grip. It's not that she didn't respect him. Nords just hated bowing and being bowed to. Better for her to stand and watch as Haldskyr studied the three-quarters head-and-shoulders portrait she'd spent the last two weeks working on for him.

So far, so good: his brow furrowed, lips tight but not frowning, stance relaxed. She'd painted him in classic middle-class Imperial style, realistic in feature but flattering in outfit. Muted colors gave the image a sober, serious feel though she'd used some bright yellows to indicate the long and braided beard which he was so clearly proud of. And it was a pretty nice beard, as such things went. She added some jewelry to let everyone know he was rich (and therefore important), a mix of twisting Nord gold work around his brow and an agate cameo of Emperor Tiber Septim, done in the Colovian manner, pinning his cloak. And the piece de resistance: a mink fur mantle over his shoulders that she'd recreated down to each individual hair.

Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten a proper meal since last night. Money tended to run out.

"Satisfactory!" he rumbled.

"Thank you, sir," she said, ignoring the hurt. She'd worked herself to exhaustion on this painting and he only thought it was satisfactory? He hadn't even commented on that tiny cameo, which she'd spent hours working on to get the texture and detail exactly right. She’d captured Tiber Septim's profile in half an inch of canvas!

But he didn't care. Clients never did.

He strode to his desk on the other side of his office, the walls hidden by tapestries of Ysgramor and the Five-hundred doing gory battle against Falmer, Dwemer, Dunmer, Reachmen, and everyone else the Nords had picked a fight with over the millennia. It was a long list.

"I am a little disappointed in the beard. It's too bright. We Nords are a simple people, Jane, not given to such frivolous chromatic displays." The heavy gold bracelets on his right wrist clinked together as he opened a drawer and took out a purse.

"My apologies. I can adjust the color if you'd like—"

"No, no. There are other problems, too."

She'd met all the expectations of the contract. It sounded like he was trying to weasel out of paying her the full 200 septims. "Like what?"

"You did not capture me! Yes, the painting looks like me, but it lacks soul, don't you think? It needs more passion in the eyes. I want to look at it and see the wrath of my ancestors thundering upon the blood-streaked tundra!"

This sounded bad. "I guess I could add some flecks of gore to your beard?"

"Of course not! I'm a fur trader not a warrior. You should show my wealth."

"Right, hence the jewelry, and the mantle, and the cameo where you can see Tiber Septim's face," Jane protested.

"Yes, my wealth is part of the physical aspect. Yet my ferocity is more spiritual. No, no. This is a very nice painting, but it's not me. So as per our contract, I will pay 100 since I am not completely satisfied."

"Sir, I spent 50 septims getting the right kinds of materials." Actually, she'd only spent 44, but she figured a little mercantile license was fair game. Forty-four was a lot for her.

"That is not my problem."

She recognized the finality in his voice. Imperial and Redguard clients she could haggle with, but Nords usually didn't bother.

A whole month of work and she hadn't gotten full pay. Days of skimping, of neglecting other commissions, of practically sequestering herself in her cramped apartment, eyes aching from the guttering candle light as she labored to get the right balance on details like his crooked teeth and that damned fur mantle, and he still wasn't satisfied.

She tried to keep her words steady. "I'm sorry it wasn't to your liking. But 100 barely covers my expenses, and I gave up a lot of opportunities to work for you since you're known as a generous patron to the arts." Actually, he had a reputation as a skinflint; a reputation she wished she'd heeded. He was a big name, though. She'd hoped one happy customer might lead to others.

Haldskyr shook his head. "My mistake was in hiring a Dunmer. I should have hired one of my own people. You ought to work with your own kind, anyway. I do not know why a Dunmer would work with a Nord."

Because she was an outlander and a Dunmer. But he'd never get that.



*********



Wind-driven rain, gray and thick, pounded the streets as Jane walked home. Bitter gusts tore at her guar-hide cloak, too thin and ragged to keep the rain from soaking into her clothes, her skin, and what felt like her bones. Huddled crowds trudged all around her, the market criers barely attempting to compete with the weather.

Only outlanders ever hired Jane. While outlanders were in no short supply, there were only so many up-and-coming foreign merchants willing to take a chance on someone like her, an artist with a good reputation but a poor network and no official apprenticeship experience.

The supply wouldn't dry up completely. But her clients weren't so wealthy that they could buy painting after painting. Usually they commissioned one, a portrait or a full-body, and be satisfied with that for several years. What she needed was some super-rich patron who'd let her live at their house and eat their food while she immortalized them on canvas a dozen times over. Unfortunately, most of the truly wealthy types in Morrowind were Dunmer, and native-born Dunmer almost never hired outlanders. Which meant more hustling on a half-empty belly.

Lucky her.

Pay was pay though, even if it wasn't as much as she'd hoped for. At least she'd earned the right to crash onto her threadbare bed and sleep the rest of the day. Except sleep didn’t earn cash, and she’d already put off too many of her commissions for Haldskyr’s sake. Now she needed to buy more supplies, which would eat through a lot of her meager earnings. All the while, Balmora’s outlanders geared up for the gift-giving of Saturalia. Saturalia was an Empire holiday, to be sure, but didn’t she have a stake in that, outlander that she was?

“Give generously so that Stendarr will show his mercy upon you! Saturalia must be a day of charity!” proclaimed a fat Imperial priest whose gilt-edged teal robes barely contained his girth. He conducted his charity from a small tent, where a few acolytes tended to bowls of offerings that’d be taken back to Moonmoth.

Jane observed the priest for a bit, watching how he bowed his bald pate each time an outlander dropped a few coins in one of the bowls.

“Outrageous,” muttered a lean Dunmer dressed in a maroon tradesman’s robe.

“Huh?”

He pointed at the priest. “This display! The greed of outlanders knows no bounds. Not enough that they infest our city. They also bring their holidays.”

“Yeah, if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s an extra holiday in winter! Saturalia totally disrupts that bleak hopeless vibe I enjoy so much this time of year.”

Taken aback, the Dunmer stared at her. Then he snarled. “Wait, you’re one of them!”

Jane watched him stalk off, muttering to himself about foreigners. It’d be nice to make it big and rub it in the faces of people like him. But that was looking less and less likely.

Her path home took her by the house of Gallus, the art dealer who’d kick-started her career with a few well-placed recommendations. The windows glowed warm and yellow in the wet gray afternoon, and the smell of bubbling kwama stew wafted out into the street.

Maybe, she thought, Gallus was in a good mood and would let her have a bite. She’d done good work for some of his friends and associates.

More to the point, she didn’t want to go home in total defeat.

Jane knocked on the door and waited. It opened a minute later, revealing Gallus, a plump middle-aged Imperial with a short black beard and dressed in a comfy-looking down coat.

“Jane! I haven’t seen you in a while. Come in, come in! The weather’s awful.”

Relieved at his welcome, Jane stepped inside. “Sorry to drip all over your floor.”

Gallus’s home looked as tidy as ever, the walls covered in thick tapestries displaying Bretonnian knights errant and Cyrodiilic rice paddies. What got Jane’s attention that day was the hearth, an Imperial-style stone model filled with warm and steady flame.

“Oh, no need to worry. Wouldn’t be in the Saturalia spirit if I didn’t let you warm up a bit.”

Meaning that if it weren’t a week away from Saturalia, it’d be back to the rain for little Janey. But she smiled. “Thanks! It’s been a tough day.”

Jane knelt by the fire, her knees sinking into the soft blue-and-green rug before the hearth. Sudden warmth sparked feeling in her fingers, the cold joints loosening up as she held them in front of the flames.

“How’s business?” Jane asked.

“Not bad. Winter’s a good season for me. People always want to burn incense when it gets cold.”

Gallus wasn’t a real art dealer. He made his money importing spices and incense from Cyrodiil. But he’d always liked art and made himself known as the person to talk to whenever some trader needed an artist to make them look cultured. The little under-the-table commissions made it practical and fun, he said.

“It’s a good thing you came by. There’s someone asking for you,” Gallus said, as he settled back in his work desk.

“For me?” That was a surprise.

“Quite urgently! In fact, I was going to send my clerk over to Drenlyn and give Miss Defoe the message so she could tell you, but it looks like I won’t have to. At a luncheon last week, I met a rich young fellow from the Imperial City named Natalinos. He’s heard good things about you from some of your clients.”

Jane’s ears perked up. This was interesting. Especially the “rich” part.

“I’m pretty full up on commissions,” she said, which was half-true, “but I can always take a look. Is he going to be in town long?”

Jane pondered which commissions she could afford to delay. She’d already kept the Chimeri-quey trader waiting longer than the poor woman should’ve had to, so not her. But the Breton fellow who was always too busy to sit and pose could stand to wait a bit longer.

“Just a month or so,” Gallus said.

“Natalinos,” she repeated. “So he’s an Imperial?”

Looking down at a document, Gallus raised an index finger. “No! Actually he’s like you: a Cyrodiil-born Dunmer. But he’s lived in Cyrodiil all his life. He’s here to do some business for his father, who’s a shipping magnate.”

Jane’s heart jumped up for a second. Another Dunmer outlander, like her and Trent. But with way more resources.

“Sounds interesting,” she said, keeping her voice level. But she wanted to grab Gallus by his shirt and get him to tell her everything he could about Natalinos.

“Here’s the note I was going to send,” Gallus said. He took a sheaf from his desk and walked over to Jane, handing it to her. The note told her to visit Natalinos in the Lucky Lockup where he’d be doing business all Middas afternoon. It also advised her to bring something to sketch with.

“Thanks, Gallus!” Jane said.

“You understand of course, that even though I’m only acting as an informal agent, I will need a 45% commission?”

Because nothing could ever be easy. “Hmm, see money’s kind of tight for me right now. This Natalinos guy is asking for me. That means people are talking about my work.”

Some of them, anyway.

“Jane, you’re a talented artist. But you never went through an apprenticeship.”

“Makes me all the more remarkable! You can spin a story about how a nobody like me clambered her way into the art world. With help from generous friends, of course. But here’s the thing: if I get more money, I can buy better supplies. And that means I can do a better job for the people you connect me to. That boosts your reputation, and this Natalinos guy sounds like a pretty big deal.”

Gallus stroked his beard. “Hmm, I see your point. Forty percent.”

He wouldn’t budge much beyond that, Jane knew. But she’d probe a bit. “What about 35%?”

Gallus shook his head. “Sorry. This guy has a lot of opportunities for both of us. Him being in the Imperial City could open up a whole new market for you. I can only take advantage of knowing him while he’s here.”

Jane looked into the flames and let out a long, slow sigh. “Guess I can tighten my belt a bit. You drive a hard bargain.”

“In this city, you have to.”

“Thanks again, Gallus.”

Gary (Gallus) - Gary, of Gary's Gallery,, appeared in the episode "Art Burn" as an art dealer who gets Jane a job selling replicas of famous paintings. Here, Gallus is more important to Jane's history, since he gave her the connections she needed to get started as a professional in the first place.

Musical Outro - The Good Life, by Weezer

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Oct 29 2022, 04:34 PM
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Renee
post Oct 30 2022, 04:29 PM
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Yes, that makes sense, about Nords not getting into the whole bowing thing. I can see some Dunmer doing it. But not Nords. And she adds jewelry to this rich guy's portrait. You know, I never really thought about it, but this is true for classic-era paintings as well. smile.gif

Wow, what d1ck this guy is. Does this pampered 4$$h0l3 even have passion in his eyes? Does he even command being painted like some warrior?

Well hey, at least he's blaming it on race, and not the fact that she's a she. sad.gif

Ah, but perfect timing with this Gallus dude. Sounds like he's aimed better at her plight. Wait WHAT 45 PERCENT??? I know little about how art agencies work, but isn't that um.. really high?

Well at least that's probably going to be better than the cheapskate she got ripped by.

This post has been edited by Renee: Oct 30 2022, 04:39 PM


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Acadian
post Oct 30 2022, 08:35 PM
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Wow, that wealthy wannabeawarrior Nord is quite the jerk. Poor Jane put a lot of heart into that for a rather paltry return. She gives a whole new meaning to ‘struggling artist’.

“Yeah, if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s an extra holiday in winter! Saturalia totally disrupts that bleak hopeless vibe I enjoy so much this time of year.”
- - Heh, Jane’s sarcastic reply to the Dunmeri Humbug Scrooge was worthy of Daria herself! tongue.gif

Gallus’ hearth was welcome on a cold, rainy day but his overreach on the commission was not. Urgh. Looks like more struggling for Jane. Maybe this Natalinos will be a pleasant surprise. . . .


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SubRosa
post Oct 31 2022, 12:43 AM
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I liked Jane's appreciation for the cultural differences in her clients, and how that influences her behavior. Not in the least because her being from the working class means she has to always consider their feelings, and it is never the other way around.

I was just thinking that if that tapestry was about all the people had fought over the years, it was going to have to be really big. And then Jane went there too!

What an ass. I wonder if this is all bulldrek because he just does not want to pay. Or if he really is this impossible to please. Granted, both can be true as well.

Saturalia is coming up? Par-Tay in the city! Maybe Jane can score some cash doing some holiday caricatures, or some such thing?

"Saturalia totally disrupts that bleak hopeless vibe I enjoy so much this time of year."
For a moment I thought that Daria has sneaked in and dropped that line from behind Jane's shoulder... laugh.gif

You're one of Them!

Someone is asking for Jane? Who might this mysterious benefactor be? Nautiloid? Sounds fishy to me. But if Jane can score some scratch, all the better.


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Renee
post Oct 31 2022, 01:01 PM
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I read this at Dariawiki about Jane Lane...

After starting at Lawndale High, she was sent to the Self Esteem Class. She took the class seven times, allegedly to kill time - Mr. O'Neill didn't recognise her even on her seventh time.

bigsmile.gif



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SubRosa
post Oct 31 2022, 09:34 PM
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QUOTE(Renee @ Oct 31 2022, 08:01 AM) *

I read this at Dariawiki about Jane Lane...

After starting at Lawndale High, she was sent to the Self Esteem Class. She took the class seven times, allegedly to kill time - Mr. O'Neill didn't recognise her even on her seventh time.

bigsmile.gif

As Jane said in the first episode: "I like having low self-esteem. It makes me feel special." laugh.gif


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WellTemperedClavier
post Nov 2 2022, 04:40 PM
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@Renee - I like adding in cultural details for the various groups. In an earlier episode I had bowing be a pretty big part of Redguard culture (it ties in with the Redguard having a few Japanese elements in older TES lore), and decided to randomly go the other way with the Nords.

In retrospect, I probably have Jane produce these hyper-detailed paintings at a pretty unrealistic speed. Some of the great artists spent months or years on a particular work, while Jane's churning them out. There is a bit of canonical basis for this: in the episode "Art Burn" she gets a job replicating famous paintings, and apparently produces them at a pretty fast clip (though with some loss of detail).

It could also be that her paintings here are quite well-done, but maybe less detailed than my description makes them sound. Alternately, she really is just incredibly talented and is being underserved by her frontier location and a lack of good connections.

Gallus's deals aren't good at all. A Painters Guild does exist in this version of Tamriel, but Balmora's too far off to have an office, so Jane's on her own until she can get to Cyrodiil.

@Acadian - The show's actually a bit unclear as to Jane's socioeconomic status. I think the consensus among fans is that her parents are probably middle class (or higher), but are so disorganized and bohemian that they frequently forget to make payments (including mortgage!) or stock up on stuff. Thus, Jane is often left in the lurch.

Instead of doing that, I decided to have Jane in the ranks of the working poor. It sharpens the contrast to Daria who, for all her protestations, is very solidly middle class. Doing this also let me show how the life of an artist in Balmora would be different from what she does in the show; Jane's more focused on making her client happy than on pursuing her own vision.

At one point, I did want to write an episode where the various Llayns reconvene in Balmora (something similar happened in the show). I ended up abandoning this, because it was hard for me to believe that so many people would coincidentally travel across Tamriel at the same time (given that travel is harder in Tamriel than in 1990s America).

As for Natalinos, just wait and see...

@SubRosa - One of the reasons Vvardenfell's so fun to write is that it's a lot more diverse than mainland Morrowind. You have a lot of groups and cultures interacting. I think most places in Vvardenfell are 50% Dunmer and 50% outlander.

Being a professional artist, Jane knows she has to keep her clients happy, and part of that means knowing their cultures.

As for Haldskyr, it's probably some of both. He's a cheapskate who is also hard to please. Though in this case, it has less to do with him having high standards and more because he's low-key racist against Dunmer.

Episode 15: The Tell-Tale Art

Chapter 2


Daria awoke on Middas morning to the sight of fresh white snow on top of all the brown adobe houses, making the entire city look like some kind of enormous gingerbread confection.

“Snow! Oh, it’s so beautiful!” Quinn cooed, looking out the window that morning.

“For now. Just wait a few days and it’ll turn into gray slush.” Daria didn't have any personal experience with snow, but the phenomenon featured heavily in her father's rants about his childhood.

Quinn sighed. “Some of us prefer to enjoy the moment, Daria.”

“Some of us prefer to spoil it.”

Daria bundled up in extra layers, her breath coming out in puffs of steam as she walked through the frigid morning air. Stirk had never gotten cold enough for snow, a rare point in the island's favor so far as she was concerned. Yet snow was only the first surprise that day. At lunch, when the students all gathered in Ondryn’s room to stay warm, Jane told her about the new client.

“This Natalinos guy will be at the Lucky Lockup after school today. I’m going to make my pitch. You want to come along?”

“Why in the world would you want me helping a sales pitch?”

“He’s already in our favorite hangout. Besides, I’m sure he’ll have all kinds of fascinating deficiencies for you to pick apart. Once we’re out of earshot, of course.”

Daria pressed her back against the wall. “Let’s see: he’s a wealthy scion slumming it in the boonies while ostensibly doing work for his dad. That means he’ll be callow, spoiled, and probably arrogant. I don’t need to see him to pick apart his deficiencies.”

“Only probably arrogant? Come on, Daria, you’re getting soft on me.”

“He’ll be like our peers at Drenlyn.”

Jane persisted until Daria gave in. School ended, and Daria followed her friend along the banks of the Odai toward the Lucky Lockup. A morning’s worth of commerce and transportation had already rendered the thin snow into a noxious slurry spread across the mud and pavement.

Jane walked faster than usual, her motions quick and decisive. A far cry from her usual relaxed self. Something about this Natalinos intrigued her, and Daria wracked her mind trying to figure out what. The description made him sound like just another feckless Imperial visiting from the capital.

They reached the Lucky Lockup as a towering silt strider, with a dozen cargo nets dangling from its abdomen, took position at the strider port. Jane stopped and turned to Daria.

“How do I look?”

“I’m probably not the right Morgendorffer to ask.”

“I don’t need a full makeover!” Jane said, sounding a bit irritated. “But is there anything that looks off? Mussed hair? Random zit?”

“All I see is you being uncharacteristically worried about your appearance.”

“Hey, a good first impression can make all the difference in this business.”

“At least you’re motivated by greed, not vanity.”

“Exactly,” Jane purred. “Okay, let’s go in.”



*********



Jane had always tried to blend in as best she could. Sometimes she succeeded, passing in crowds unnoticed by the more xenophobic natives.

But Natalinos, dressed in a resplendent moth-silk robe of deepest crimson and filigreed with gold thread, practically bragged about his outlander status. He sat at a corner table with a pair of Imperials dressed in simpler garb.

“That’s him,” Jane whispered to Daria.

No doubt about it: Natalinos was a good-looking guy. He had that chiseled quality the best-looking Dunmer boys had, but without that sour, conspiratorial vibe. He carried himself like an Imperial, utterly sure of his place in the world.

He was the first Dunmer she’d seen in a long time without any tattoos or ritual scars. Dunmer society had a lot of rules about how people could mutilate themselves. Trent had tried and his effort only made them hate him more. Jane had never bothered.

She walked slowly toward the table. Gallus’s message had said she could come in at any time, but she didn’t want to chance it. This was a business opportunity, maybe a big one. A wealthy client could go a long way.

And what’s more, he was like her. A thoroughly imperialized Dunmer, the way she might’ve been if mom and dad hadn’t dragged her back to Morrowind. To a place where she’d never be accepted, all because she’d spent the first five years of her life beyond its oh-so-holy borders.

Natalinos turned away from his associates to look at Jane. “Do you want something?”

“Sorry to interrupt. I’m Jane Llayn, the artist you were looking for.”

She held her breath, hoping she hadn’t been too forward.

His face brightened. “Oh yeah! My associates and I are wrapping things up. Next meeting’s yours! I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“I always come through for a potential client,” Jane said.

She ushered Daria to the next table over, not wanting to make Natalinos feel rushed.

It was kind of fun to watch him: the mix of influences in his style begged to be painted. He had the looks of a hero. A lot of clients wanted themselves painted in poses and with symbols that subtly recalled Pelinal Whitestrake, or Reman, or some other Imperial bigshot. Jane liked a challenge, and she certainly didn’t shirk at casting a pudgy middle manager in an epic light. But it’d be fun to paint someone who actually looked the part.

“A complete indifference to other people’s time,” Daria suddenly said. “That’s a deficiency I missed.”

“Huh?”

“We’ve been waiting here for a while.”

“Just a bit longer,” Jane said, tensing in her seat.

Sure enough, the two traders shook hands with Natalinos and stood up to depart. He ushered them over.

“Hey there. I’m Natalinos Dralavel, son of Marcus Dralavel, who owns half the ships in the Inner Sea.”

So, his dad had an Imperial name, too.

“Charmed,” Jane said, getting up from the table she shared with Daria and taking a seat across from Natalinos. “You already know who I am. My friend here is Daria Morgendorffer. We’re both from Cyrodiil. I was born in the Imperial City, anyway.”

“And spent a whopping five years there as a little kid,” Daria said, as she followed Jane to Natalinos’s table.

Really not the time for this, Jane thought as she glared at her friend.

“Jane,” Natalinos said. “That’s short for Janieta, right? You should go by your full name. It’s got that classic Imperial style.”

“I would, but three foreign syllables might be a bit much for the average Balmoran.”

Natalinos laughed, the way a king might: unconcerned what anyone else thought. “I can see that. A bunch of rubes here in Morrowind, right?”

“And I have to live with them.”

Natalinos shook his head. “That’s a shame. I saw that painting you did of Connemus Terano when I was visiting him last week. It’s impressive work.”

“What can I say, I’m an impressive artist,” Jane said, a warm glow creeping into her cheeks. Too much pride could turn a client off. But no, the light in his eyes, the certainty of his smile... Natalinos liked it. And why shouldn’t he? Folks from the Imperial City could do almost anything. So what if Jane had hardly spent any time there? The place had still left its mark on her.

“You paint like one of the big artists in the Imperial City. It’s that eye for detail,” Natalinos said, tapping his face below his right eye. “Like the way you detailed Connemus’s ring. Even got the tiny little lion engraved on it.”

Jane’s heart leapt and she put her forearms on the table and leaned forward, closer to him. He understood. She’d spent ages on that ring.

“Guess I’ve got the artist’s eye,” Jane said, trying to sound casual.

“Not to mention a smitten young girl’s sense of caution,” Daria grumbled.

Jane lightly kicked at Daria’s feet. Had Natalinos heard? His expression hadn’t changed.

“Yeah, I can tell," he said. "The way you handled the lighting? Totally something Morrius Baradus would do.”

“Oh yeah?” Jane had no idea who Morrius Baradus was.

“Absolutely. Sketch me. I want to see what you can do on the spot.”

Jane smiled and reached into her pack, taking out a graphite pencil wrapped in sheepskin and a sheaf of paper. “I’m more than ready.”

Or was she? Natalinos clearly knew about art. He was plugged into the heart of Tamriel’s culture in a way Jane, stuck out in Balmora, could never be. She used to worry about clients not noticing her work. Now she worried about Natalinos seeing all the shortcuts she took and flaws she hadn’t fixed.

But one way or another, she was committed.

Musical Outro - Lazy Line Painter Jane, by Belle and Sebastian

Nathan (Natalinos) - There are some pretty big spoilers in the link, so I would advise just looking at the picture. Nathan only appears in one episode of the show, but he left an impression.

(His episode is the only one that actually makes me mad).

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 2 2022, 04:43 PM
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Renee
post Nov 2 2022, 07:59 PM
Post #236


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Nah, she's not painting too fast. We're talking about a world imbued with magic, after all. bluewizardsmile.gif Not that Jane uses magic to paint, just... the rules in the Elder Scrolls universe gotta be a bit different than Earth. Maybe the paint dries more instantly or something. tongue.gif

She's with her clients a few hours, right? And I think there was an episode in which they took a break and she finished on another day. So, that sounds about right. I've seen street painters who can draw pretty good likenesses of strangers at Ocean City, or in NYC, for instance. 🖼 They work pretty quickly, usually within a half hour or so.

Oh wow, snow! Even Quinn notices its beauty. For once, she's not so focused on her own appearance! (kidding, sort of...) You described the silt strider well, with all the stuff hanging off of it.

QUOTE
“At least you’re motivated by greed, not vanity.”

“Exactly,” Jane purred. “Okay, let’s go in.”


Ha ha this killed me!

Oh no. This guy, this Natalinos. Already I get a weird feeling about him. Hmm okay. Doesn't seem so bad, so far. I like Janieta, too. Hmm, he likes the lion ring she painted. Daria seems like she's dead weight in this situation, but her little comments are making the story funny!

He seems okay so far, but yeah, his wiki page does more than hint that Nathan's a D-bag.


Off-topic, but have you ever seen Idiocracy, Clavier? It's another Mike Judge creation, well, he co-wrote it and directed. ... It's pretty cynical but also I remember laughing a lot. But it's pretty controversial. Check it out if you've never seen it.





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Acadian
post Nov 2 2022, 08:15 PM
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An interesting decision by Jane to recruit Daria to accompany her. On one hand, Daria’s observations would not be clouded by artistry or greed. . . on the other hand, she rather is the quintessential wet blanket. We shall see.

Turns out it was probably a wise choice for, Jane is quite obvious in her infatuation with Natalinos and Daria is a good one to help keep Jane’s feet on the ground. He does seem a charmer. So why are plenty of little red flags going off in my head? I did take your advice and only looked at the picture in the link you provided.


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SubRosa
post Nov 3 2022, 02:04 AM
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Snow, in Vvardenfell? blink.gif Are we sure it is not ash? Wow, it really is snow. Well, it is in the right latitude. I mean, it is just as far north as the normally snow-bound parts of Skyrim. So yeah, snow. I am digging it.

I am starting to wonder if Natalinos might be your universe's version of Tom? Or is it too early to bring him into the mix?

Nah, Tom would not be dressed in that bright Moth Robe and trying to stand out. He'd be wearing the same brown flax outfit as everyone else.

Am I detecting a bit of buttering up, not from Jane to Natalinos, but the other way around? Hmmm...

Oh, ok, I was starting to wonder if the Retro 50s Guy was going to make an appearance.


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WellTemperedClavier
post Nov 5 2022, 04:53 PM
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@Renee - That's a good point, actually! Street painters can do some impressive work in a very short time. I hadn't thought about that, so maybe it's not as much of a stretch as I'd believed.

Thanks about the descriptions. I'd seen some fan art of silt striders with stuff hanging from their carapaces, so I figured I'd weave that in.

And yes, I have seen Idiocracy! The setup does unfortunately dip into eugenics, but aside from that misstep I find the movie enjoyable. To me at least, Judge is mostly mocking the way culture and commercialism often reward stupidity (and I'd argue that the people in the future aren't necessarily inherently stupid; President Camacho is actually pretty smart, he's just let down by his environment).

@Acadian - I think that, on some level, Jane knows that Daria will offer a more realistic perspective. But Jane's hopes may have gotten the better of her here.

@SubRosa - I figured snow is uncommon in Balmora, but does happen from time to time. Granted, Tamrielic climatology is a bit of a mess, so I try not to think about it too hard.

Tom's still a ways off. But he will show up, eventually...

Episode 15: The Tell-Tale Art

Chapter 3


Jane loved art because it let her disappear. At work, she was no longer a tired outlander in threadbare clothes trying to ignore an empty belly. Instead, she became whatever her client needed. A dispassionate eye for Imperials, part of her own ancestral memory for Dunmer, and plenty more.

But this time, she couldn’t disappear. Jane felt herself in every stroke of the pencil. The noise of the cornerclub faded to a low buzz, her entire being invested in Natalinos’s fine features. She’d never seen anyone who looked so perfectly Imperial without also being one by race.

And he was a Dunmer, like her.

She tried to capture that, emphasizing the aspects court artists highlighted in portraits of monarchs. Specifically, like how the legendary Bouliere painted his portraits of Empress Katariah, the Dunmer woman who’d married into the Septim line and ruled all Tamriel for 46 glorious years. She made it more masculine to flatter Natalinos, but the regal quality would come through regardless.

It was pretty easy to ignore Daria’s bored sighs.

When finished, Jane sat back in her chair and pushed the drawing across the table. Natalinos picked it up, raising it to a nearby lantern to get better light.

“Not bad! Not bad at all! Has a real third century feel, I like that.”

Jane had actually been aiming a little older. But hey, who was she to quibble over centuries?

“So you’re interested in doing business?” she asked.

Maybe a little more than just business, she thought.

“Definitely. You know, I wasn’t too thrilled about coming to Morrowind—"

“I’m sure most of Morrowind felt the same way,” Daria muttered.

“—but turns out, sometimes you do find things of value in a place like this.” Natalinos winked at Jane. “One of my dad’s business partners is having this shindig Fredas night, and I’m supposed to be there. Should be a pretty high-class type of deal, lots of people to see and meet. You want to go?”

“Me? Sure, but I’m not exactly high class—”

“Just scare up some cool threads. No one’s going to question you as long as you’re with me.”

Jane thought about it a bit. “So, I’d be a menial or something?”

“You? Nah, I’ll tell them you’re a close friend of the family.”

“Like a personal artist?” A long shot, Jane knew. But maybe it’d plant the idea in his head.

“Way I see it, you already are.” He held up the picture Jane had done. “The party starts at sundown, at the house of Haldskyr Bear-grip.”

“Oh! I know who he is, actually. Finished a job for him a few days ago.”

“Great! You’ll already know everyone. Hey, will I get a chance to see the painting you did for him? I’d love to see a Llayn original in full color.”

“Should still be there.” But Jane already saw the problem. “Thing is, I can’t go if it’s at Haldskyr’s. A lot of my clients will be there. They’ll recognize me, and you know how us menials spoil the atmosphere.”

“Won’t be a problem as long as you’re my girl. These guys eat out of my dad’s hand. Hey, how about this? Wear a veil. You’ll look like a rich Imperial City gal.”

“Hm.” Now that was interesting. She’d always hungered to know what people said about her paintings behind her back. Real honesty never happened face-to-face. “These veils do a pretty good job of concealing, right?”

“Shame to hide a pretty face like yours, but yes. I actually have an old purple moth-silk veil you can use.”

“On that case,” Jane said, “count me in.”

This was fantastic. She’d finally know what others thought of her and of the painting Haldskyr had stiffed her on. She knew it was good but she needed the right person to see it.

“Primo,” Natalinos said.



*********



As usual, Daria was less than impressed and started complaining the moment they left the Lucky Lockup. The sky was clear and the air crisp, the western horizon blushing with sunset.

“Primo?” Daria sneered.

Jane shrugged. “Hey, maybe that’s the lingo over in the Imperial City.”

“You can’t seriously be defending him.”

“I’m not defending him! Maybe it’s a cultural thing. Face it, Daria, we are pretty back of beyond by the Imperial City’s standards.”

A sudden heaviness weighed on Jane’s skinny shoulders. She knew Natalinos wouldn’t amount to much: probably another client who’d pay her an okay fee and whom she’d never see again. But he’d invited her to a big party with free food and drink. Where she could let go and have fun for a little while, pretend she was someone else. She wouldn’t have to come as a menial either, the way she’d had to at the Talori party with the Morgendorffers.

Why did Daria have to stomp all over that? Couldn’t she have a little faith in her?

“I see,” Daria said. “We peasants should be thankful he’s gracing us with his posh Imperial City stylings?”

“Come on, Daria. You’re from Stirk. That’s not exactly the cultural heart of the Empire.”

Daria made an irritated sound. “Stirk’s a narrow-minded provincial town with little to recommend it. But the Imperial City is probably equally screwed-up in a different way. You said it yourself: you could annoy your clients if you go to this party.”

Jane almost fired back with a sharp retort. That maybe, deep down, Daria hated the idea of Jane hanging out with all the rich and beautiful people as an equal. Better to be Daria’s little sidekick, the humble and grateful menial who sometimes got a peek of the high life.

But she held it back. Daria hadn’t ever deliberately looked down on her. In this world, that counted for a lot.

“It’ll be fine!” Jane said instead. “I’ve seen those veils before, they do a good job of hiding your face. Besides, the party will be dark and everyone will be drinking. Sure, maybe Natalinos is a little full of himself, but he’s different from the people I usually paint. He’s got this confidence, kind of what you’d see in an old portrait of someone famous. Except he’s alive, he’s young—”

“And rich and handsome?”

Jane felt herself blush again. “Hey, you said it, not me.”

“Just stay realistic about him,” Daria warned.

“I will, Daria. I don’t have the luxury to do anything else.”

Daria slowed down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jane hesitated. Best not to say what she actually thought. “That surviving here, which I’ve done, means I have to be realistic. I’m not going to stop because of one good-looking guy.”

“Hmph.”

They parted ways soon after, Jane excusing herself by saying she needed to get started on another commission. In truth, she wanted some time to herself.

She also needed to figure out what to wear for the party in two days. Her wardrobe wasn’t exactly current, stylish, or colorful. Buying a new outfit wasn’t in her budget and she wouldn’t have the time to get properly fitted for one anyway.

An idea came to her as she crossed the Foreigner’s Span, the Odai’s black waters flowing beneath. Not an idea she much cared for, but it’s not like she had any other options.



*********



Jane didn’t have any courses the next day but she struck out for Drenlyn all the same, moving quickly to ward off the early morning chill.

She stopped outside campus and took a seat on a crate next to the apothecary’s shop. The position kept her out of sight while letting her watch the main gate. Daria came by on her own, dour as usual. But no sign of Quinn. Jane hoped that Quinn had school that day. Otherwise she might have to make a covert visit to the Morgendorffer house.

Fortunately, Quinn appeared a while later with her Fashion Club in tow, the high-pitched chatter of their voices scraping Jane’s eardrums from across the street.

“I’m probably going to regret this,” Jane said to herself as she stood up and hurried over to them.

“Hey, Quinn! Do you have a second!” Jane called, as Quinn rounded the corner into Drenlyn.

Quinn stopped and turned to face Jane, her fashion fiends doing likewise.

“Uh, what do you want?” Quinn demanded.

“Had a question I needed to ask.” Jane glanced at Satheri, Tiphannia, and Treads-on-Ferns. “Preferably in private?”

Quinn hesitated for a moment, then addressed the others. “Girls, go inside. I’ll take care of this.”

“You’ll be okay?” Treads-on-Ferns asked.

“I’ll totally be okay, Treads! This is my sister’s weird friend.” As the rest of the Fashion Club left, Quinn crossed her arms. “So like, what do you want?”

“This is going to sound weird, but do you have a dress I could borrow?”

“A dress? For you? Is this some kind of trick?” Quinn put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, eyes narrow and searching.

“Not a trick! Look, I have this business thing I have to look nice for. And well, my wardrobe…”

She tugged at her tattered sleeve for emphasis.

“First of all,” Quinn said, starting to walk a circle around Jane, “you need brighter colors! I know, I know, Morrowind doesn’t usually go for that, but trust me when I say that they’ll make for a nice contrast. I talked Satheri into buying this bright violet gown for her birthday, and now everyone is saying how great she looks.”

“Huh, must’ve been out that day. All I—”

“But what’s even more important is taking care of your clothes! Seriously, Jane, don’t go walking through paint or whatever it is you do! Or if you must, have like a set of clothes you use just for that.”

“See, I don’t really have—”

“My advice is to go find something colorful and new. Red’s already a good shade for you, but you need something a bit brighter. Black always looks good, except on holy days. You should definitely start with a practice—"

“Quinn!”

“What? You’re interrupting me!”

“I don’t have time or money for a big fashion makeover. Can I borrow one of your dresses? Just for a few days. And one that will match with a purple Nibenese-style veil.”

Quinn tilted her head for a moment, lips pursed tightly together. “I guess I could let you borrow my pink gown. I’m not sure that’s your color, though.”

“Does it look Cyrodiilic?” Jane asked.

“Well duh! I brought it with me from Stirk.”

Jane tried to think of how to phrase it. “I was thinking more like a dress you’d see in the capital.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Good luck getting that!”

“Fine, fine. It’s good enough.”

“It’s kind of small for me now, but might still fit you. Mer girls have the daintiest frames,” she sighed.

“Think that’s the first time anyone ever called me dainty, but okay,” Jane said. “Could you bring it tomorrow?”

“I suppose I could…”

“And one more thing: don’t tell Daria about this,” Jane said.

Quinn smirked. “Now you owe me two favors. Hmm.” She tapped her cheek in thought. “I know! Sooner or later I’ll need an artist to show how like, beautiful and stylish I am. You can paint me or something.”

Jane shrugged. “Sure, I’m always on the lookout for clients. But my schedule’s pretty full until next year.” Though with where things stood, embarrassing Daria by making a great painting of Quinn and company might even count as a bonus.

“Wait, I wouldn’t be like a paying client. You’ll paint me for free. That’s price for these favors.”

Jane shook her head. “Quinn, art supplies cost a lot of money—”

“Do you want the dress or not?”

Jane didn’t care that much if Daria knew about the deal, but she needed that dress. If she snagged Natalinos she’d have a regular employer and not be forever hustling for pennies in the Commercial District.

“Deal. But make sure you have it tomorrow.”

Jane walked away, hoping she hadn’t made a huge mistake.

“Great doing business with you!” Quinn called out behind her.

Musical Outro - Bohemian Like You, by The Dandy Warhols
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Renee
post Nov 5 2022, 10:41 PM
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Gosh darn man, Clavier. So this one just brought a tear to my eye, like for real. The description how Jane is able to adapt; how she becomes a different person according to whom she is trying to portray. It's beautiful. Sad too, but I'm captivated.

Where is this all going though? Something's creeping me out about this guy.

Uh oh, is this Bear-grip guy the same Nord who shorted poor Jane? mad.gif Yep, sure is. Well now I know what's creeping me out. She'd better bring a bodyguard.

Gosh, it's Quinn. I equally hate and love Quinn. She's being really mean to Jane, but she also IS really good with fashion stuff.

"Well duh!" Quinn says! laugh.gif Hopefully she'll say "as if!" at some point.



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