Outlanders (Morrowind Crossover) Options

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 6

Rain crashed down around them, steady and overwhelming. Daria wanted to believe she'd only imagined the howl.

Then it came again, louder and closer than before.

"Jane, if you've ever secretly gotten extensive weapons or magic training, now would be a great time to show it," Daria said. She tightened her grip on the sheathed sword even as her arm trembled. Her breaths came quick and sharp.

"I have a knife. I can cut up a scrib with it. As long as it's already dead."

Daria wiped her glasses with her soaked sleeve, revealing her rain-lashed surroundings for a few blurry moments before more drops obscured her vision.

The nix hound howled anew. Daria drew her sword, the weapon absurdly heavy in her little hand. Water dripped down the handle, making it slippery.

"It's there!" Jane cried.

"I can't see a damn thing!"

"A bit to your left, up on the hill. It's watching us."

Daria cleared her lenses again. She glimpsed the nix hound through the smear of water. It looked like a lean and leathery dog with a mosquito's head, complete with an enormous proboscis. The creature stared back at them through bulging red compound eyes.

What had Dad said? His warnings and advice turned to vapor in the face of a real threat. Failure here meant pain—very possibly death. Daria pressed her teeth together and planted her feet wide on the muddy ground, the wet earth already threatening to pull out from under her.

"It's moving!" Jane shouted.

Daria pulled back her sword arm. Quick, decisive thrusts, she remembered, and hoped she looked in the right direction. How close was it? Something splashed near her—Jane's feet? The hound's claws?

A shadow burst through the rain.

Air rushed out of Daria's lungs as the nix hound hit her with what felt like a meteor's force. She fell backward into the mud, her world a jumble of howls and thrashing muscles. She stabbed with frantic abandon, not knowing if she struck earth or flesh.

"I can't get close—" came Jane's voice.

Crushing weight pressed onto Daria, and she tried to wiggle free. Bulbous eyes looked into her own. It reared back for a strike, and she moved her head to the left. The nix hound's proboscis plunged into the ground where her head had been a moment before.

She stabbed again. The sword point hit something thick and dense.

"Get off her!" Jane shouted.

Daria still struggled. Sharp pain flared on her right side. She imagined her innards spilling out onto the ground. This was it, she realized.

Suddenly, the weight lifted. A trembling howl echoed in her ears, fading into the rain.

She lay there in the mud for a few moments, her entire body shaking.

"Jane? Am I dead?"

"No. Here, let's get you out of the road."

Jane grabbed her arms and helped her up. Daria followed along as pain pulsed through her torso.

"How bad is it?" Daria asked. She could still walk, at least.

"Can't tell in all the rain, but your guts aren't spilling out, so that's probably a good sign. Assuming you like your guts."

"I have a good working relationship with them."

Jane guided Daria to a seated position at the base of a big beige mushroom.

"I think you saved my life," Daria said, still numb as she leaned back on the spongy stalk. She wondered how her dad had managed to do this when he was her age. He'd never gotten that far in the Fighters Guild, but he'd done some bloody work for them.

No wonder he never talked about it.

"The way I see it, we saved each other's," Jane said. "You skewered that nix hound pretty good."

"I did?" Daria realized she'd left her sword in the mud. "Dammit, my sword's still there."

"Leave it for now; let's take a look at your wound." Jane took the lapels of Daria's coat to start removing it, but Daria waved her off.

"I can do this," she said, only for a sudden wave of pain to bowl her over once she tried extricating her arms from the sleeves. "Okay, maybe not."

Jane took off the coat and lifted Daria's shirt along her right side. She whistled.

"That doesn't sound promising," Daria said.

"I'm just thinking about the cool scar you'll get from this. It's a flesh wound, so nothing we can't fix."

Jane rummaged through her pack, took out a tiny tin canister, and handed it to Daria. She opened it up and drank the bittersweet sludge inside. Exhaling, she rested her head against the stalk as the potion jumpstarted her natural regenerative ability.

"Feel better?" Jane asked.

"Getting there."

"Okay. Once you're up to it, we can go back to the boat. I don't—"

"Wait," Daria interrupted. "The shrine can't be much farther."

"Are you sure you're up for it?"

Was she? Daria thought for a moment. More than anything else, she wanted to lie down in a warm bed and sleep for a full week. But she'd already given up so much on this journey: her comfort, her security, and her own tenuous faith.

No reason to not go all the way.

"We've gone this far, and it's unlikely we'll get attacked again. Besides, I'm already caked in mud and wracked with self-doubt. I wouldn't look out of place in the Shrine of Humility."

"Are you positive?" Jane lowered her voice.

Their eyes locked.

"Yes."

Jane nodded. "Okay. Thanks."

They waited a bit longer for Daria to recuperate before retrieving her sword and setting off. The rain slackened to a drizzle as they marched, cold and soaked to the bone. Water sloshed in Daria's boots, and she knew she'd end up with blisters before this was all over.

Daria looked for any buildings that might house the shrine, but it was Jane who found it, a humble triolith to the left of the road, not that different from the household shrines in Balmora. Set among mossy stones and flanked by violet willow anthers, it'd have been easy for a traveler to overlook.

"This is it?" Daria asked.

"The Tribunal Temple usually isn't that big on display. Plus, it'd be kind of weird to have some huge temple for a shrine to humility."

Daria thought back to the grand temples she'd seen in Cyrodiil while traveling to Morrowind. As far as the Imperial Cult was concerned, humility was best expressed through gem-encrusted relics and enormous edifices of white marble.

Jane continued. "So back in the day, there was a farmer whose guar had died. The poor guy couldn't harvest his crops without it. Lord Vivec, who wasn't a god yet, found him and helped out."

And now that he was a god, did Vivec help farmers struggling with poor harvests? Daria wondered. The impoverished multitudes suggested otherwise. But she said nothing.

"That was good of him," Daria said, not trusting herself to go farther.

"Yeah. It was."

Jane bowed her head and took slow steps toward the shrine. She drew a small bundle of wet cloth from her coat and knelt in front of the shrine, reverently placing the bundle on the wet earth.

"Thank you for your humility, Lord Vivec. I shall neither strut nor preen in vanity, but shall know and give thanks for my place in the greater world."

Jane genuflected, heedless of the storm. She'd risked life and limb, sacrificed time and scant resources. She'd expected no reward and had received none, but showed no regret for her efforts.

Daria wasn't sure if she believed in a god. But she knew she believed in faith.

*********

Severius delivered Daria and Jane to Pelagiad by noon the next day; the skies clear and the air warm after the storm. Daria gave him the incense and headed to the Halfway Tavern for a bath and a full meal.

Evening found the pair sitting next to a bonfire on the fairgrounds. The cool night air still thrummed with the sounds of commerce as farmers haggled over last-minute deals. Mammalian, reptilian, and invertebrate cattle all added their sounds to the medley.

"I should've gone with you," Trent said, staring into the flames. "I know how to deal with nix hounds."

"No harm, no foul," Jane said. "Besides, Daria got a neat new accessory. Show him your scar!"

Daria smiled. "I'd rather people appreciate me for my deep psychological scars. Physical scars are so passé in comparison."

"Come on, think of the fashion trends you can start back in Balmora!"

"That'd be a losing proposition. Quinn has a much higher pain tolerance than I do."

Trent shook his head. "You guys joke about it, but that scares me. Nix hounds shouldn't be on pilgrimage routes."

"The ordinators can't keep their eyes on everything," Jane said.

Iesse sauntered up to them at that moment, a small pouch in his right hand. "Hey, Trent," he said. "I just got a great deal on some incense from the Imperial City!"

Daria's ears perked up at the word. "Incense?" she asked.

"Yeah. I'm gonna take it home and put it around my place. Girls really dig it."

"Where exactly did you get this incense?"

"Some boat captain was selling it."

"Was his name Severius?"

Iesse blinked. "Yeah. How did you know?"

Daria sighed. On the plus side, it looked like she might have a chance to fulfill her mom's request after all.

Musical Closer - Under Easy, by The Posies

The End

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 27 2024, 02:53 AM

[Acadian]

An exciting fight! Daria surely needs some windshield wipers for those darn glasses! Or perhaps a water repelling enchantment for the lenses? Nothing like a life or death struggle to bring friends closer and that seems to be the case here. Glad Jane was carrying a healing potion.

”Plus, it'd be kind of weird to have some huge temple for a shrine to humility."
- - Methinks Jane’s got the right of it here.

Back to Pelagiad with a sexy new scar to document their adventure.

How fitting! Seems Daria’s incense just might complete its journey as well.

[SubRosa]

I hate wearing glasses in the rain. ugh.

Sharp pain flared on her right side. She imagined her innards spilling out onto the ground.

and

Can't tell in all the rain but your guts aren't spilling out, so that's probably a good sign.

This was a delightful combination! Also I absolutely heard that in Jane's voice from the show. You really capture the character's vocal cadences well.

And hopefully this whole adventure will serve to cement the relationship between Daria and Jane, when earlier the same day it was looking to do quite the opposite.

I liked the intentional juxtaposition between the Shrine of Humility being a literal humble affair, compared to Daria's own ruminations to the grandeur of Imperial temples.

"I'd rather people appreciate me for my deep psychological scars. Physical scars are so passé in comparison."
That is so Daria!

I nearly laughed out loud at Jessie's fortuitous find of incense!

[WellTemperedClavier]

Episode 8: Hate Actually

Chapter 1

Sweat was the enemy. Sure, Quinn had lots of enemies: cheap kohl, those lacy veils that Nibenese women wore that got stuck on your makeup, bad hair days, bad pores, and last but not least, Synda Grilvayn. But of all those, sweat was the one she worried about as she trudged to Moonmoth Legion Fort with her family.

Why would anyone walk so far on a hot summer day? She knew that Tiphannia's family had hired a carriage for the trip, and that wasn't so expensive! Why couldn't Mom do that? Instead, the whole family had to march up rocky hills under the burning sun like a bunch of soldiers. Regular soldiers, not officers, who'd probably have horses or something.

"You know, if you'd hired a carriage, we'd already be there by now!" Quinn said. She tugged at the collar of her light yellow dress, damp with sweat. She'd need an ocean of perfume to cover the smell, and she'd only brought one vial. Plus, sweat always showed up on yellow. She'd have picked a different color, but yellow went best with the red of Pelinal's Day.

"Sweetie, it's only six miles. You used to walk farther than that on Stirk," Mom said from the front.

"But that was back then! Now, me not looking my best could be bad for this whole family! Everybody important is going to be at the fort for Pelinal's Day! "

"You mean the commemoration of Pelinal's Midyear Massacre—" Daria started.

"The Empire doesn't call it that any longer," Mom chided.

"At least not when there might be wealthy Mer around," Daria added.

"Maybe we should call it that," Quinn said. She adjusted her parasol to keep the sun from burning her face. "It's the day where my fashion standards get massacred."

"You should've asked those three suitors of yours to carry you," Daria said.

"Ugh, gross! They'd have to touch me for that!"

"Here we are!" Dad cheered. He pointed ahead to the squat towers of Moonmoth Legion Fort, looking every bit as barren as the surrounding hills. Dust swirled in the air, sticking to Quinn's dress and spoiling the color of the fabric.

Quinn refused to cheer. Maybe they thought it was a fun little walk, or whatever, but they didn't have to look perfect. She did. The walk would cost her big time. You only survived if you had friends, and more people wanted to be your friend if you looked good! That way, they could look at something nice when they talked about business or whatever.

Daria would sulk in a corner like she always did at parties, so Quinn would have to do double duty representing the Morgendorffers to all the handsome young officers and minor nobles that'd be there. Didn't Mom and Dad see how important it was? She could secure the family's future by finding some cute guy who was rich. Lots of people made marriage arrangements on holidays; it was like really auspicious.

Now she'd have to do all that looking as unfashionable as Daria!

*********

The soldiers had decorated the fort as best they could, but there was only so much you could do with bare stone. At least it was cool inside. Quinn breathed a sigh of relief as they walked past the troopers standing out in front of the keep (the one on the left had been kind of cute in a scary sort of way) and entered the main hall. She sniffed when she saw how they'd covered the walls in garish tapestries with basic designs. Couldn't they spend a bit more? If the Empire was trying to keep everyone happy, it needed to make its forts look like places where cool people would want to spend time, even if they were way out on the frontier.

Someday, she really needed to get to the Imperial Court and help them fix their spending priorities.

"Here we are, girls! The Empire's outpost of law and order!" Dad exclaimed. "The home of the soldiers who protect us from the barbarian hordes, the great wall where we seek shelter and gain strength!"

"Would these barbarian hordes include any of your clients?" Daria asked.

Quinn tuned them out and tallied up the other guests. Mostly other people born in Cyrodiil, which made sense because it was an Imperial holiday. There was Nadia Heptalla, who'd just come back from the Imperial City with all kinds of stories about the latest fashions, and who Quinn definitely needed to talk to, a lot; Agrippina Neusis, whose mom and dad were like super-rich from investing in those smelly egg mines but whose money couldn't buy fashion sense; Marco Rocullus, who was definitely cute but maybe a little too dumb—a little dumb was better than too smart, but he took it too far, like being the kind of guy who'd once won a head-butting contest against a guar (you'd have to be pretty dumb to get in that kind of contest in the first place, and if you won, it meant your skull was thicker than a wild animal's, so definitely not boyfriend material); Tiphannia and Satheri...

Tiphannia and Satheri! Quinn extended her arms and hurried to her two friends. Tiphannia wore a pale green moth-silk gown that was so pretty on her, and that had those little flowers sown in on the sleeves! Satheri's dress was simpler, dark blue and thick, maybe a little too boxy around the shoulders, but still super-cute.

"I'm so glad to see you guys!" Quinn said, hugging the two of them. "Okay, so what's the battle plan tonight? Satheri, do you know any cute single guys in Great House Hlaalu who'll be here? Because I could definitely go for an Ascadian Isles vacation this summer... plus, shopping in Vivec!"

And Satheri would totally know! Her family had all the connections to both the Empire and Hlaalu because her dad ran messages from one to the other or something like that. Her words lit a spark in Satheri's big, innocent eyes. That's what was so cute about Satheri. She could be so mild one moment, but the next she was all business.

"Okay," Satheri said, "so I know the Sloans are going to be here. They're like the richest, but their son, Tomal, is kind of a dud and reads weird books all the time. The Hlaleldro boys are here—the older one is too old, but the younger one is our age. He's kind of cute, but gets boring. But get this! Turimar Shurmam will be here."

"Who's that?" Quinn asked.

"He's hunky, and he's loaded. They say that all the girls in Vivec are in love with him, and that one time he wrestled a wild kagouti to the ground! Like he grabbed it by the tusks and forced it down, all on his own!"

"Ooh, that does sound good! Why did he do it?"

"My friend said he did it to save—get this—a human girl!"

"Great! I was going to ask if his family would be okay with him, you know, being with a human." She knew a lot of Dunmer guys said they only wanted Dunmer girls, but she'd seen the way those guys looked at her when they thought she wasn't looking back. Still, she wasn't going to date someone who had hang-ups over something so silly. Quinn was already half-Nord anyway, and they were all citizens of the Empire regardless of race.

"What do you think, Tiphannia?" Quinn asked.

"Kagouti are like... so dangerous..." As usual, she was still in the earlier part of the conversation.

Satheri beamed. "Gosh, this must be so exciting. There are a lot of cute outlander guys, too. It almost makes me wish I wasn't in an arranged marriage." Her eyes somehow got bigger, and she suddenly clutched Quinn's sleeve. "But I didn't mean I'm unhappy with the arranged marriage! If my parents found out I was complaining, they'd kill me, and the marriage won't happen, and then I'll be alone forever, and you can't tell anyone—"

"Calm down, Satheri! Panic opens your pores. Remember that."

Still trembling, Satheri nodded and took a few deep breaths. And with that, she was back to normal.

That's what Quinn loved about the club. They were so supportive. Satheri and Tiphannia both looked good in ways that made Quinn look even better but didn't threaten her (and her arranged marriage meant Satheri couldn't steal any eligible guys). And best of all, Quinn could help them with her knowledge of Imperial fashion!

Which reminded her: she needed to do some serious talking with Nadia Heptalla to find out which dress colors were in right now. Quinn hadn't gotten a new dress in almost a year. Way past time to prep!

They caught up on the important things—who was seeing who, who'd bought what—until one of the Imperial Cult priests rang a bell. Quinn hurried over to where her family sat, already thinking of how much she could do that evening.

*********

Daria sat with her parents and used alcohol to gird herself for what was sure to be a miserable event. The fort was serving grape wine, which she hadn't had since leaving Cyrodiil. She raised a pewter cup to her lips and savored the sour taste. Good, but she had to admit she now preferred mazte. Wine reminded her of a small and lonely world surrounded by the ocean, with Quinn's complaints constant and unavoidable. Mazte made her think of the comforting darkness within the Lucky Lockup and of Jane's raspy voice as they mocked the stupidity around them.

The fort's gaudy decorations somehow enhanced its bleakness; the clash of bright textiles and gray stone both cheap and unconvincing. They'd be staying the night and marching back in the morning. She'd tried to talk her way out of coming, prompting Mom and Dad to go on an interminable spiel about the importance of Imperial patriotism.

The seating arrangements in the hall reflected the Empire's power structure. Funny how they hid things like that in plain sight. A big table at the head of the room held all the administrators, high-ranking priests, and legion types. To their right was a smaller table reserved for wealthy outlander guests, including Jolda and (less pleasantly) Karl the Unctuous. Opposite them, and to the left of the head table, was another where the well-connected Dunmer guests took their place. Daria saw Satheri, clinging to her parents like a shadow, and Briltasi, whose stepmom was the sole outlander at that table. No sign of Synda, happily; her family didn't do any business with the Empire.

Outlanders occupied the rest of the tables, decreasing in social importance the closer the table was placed to the door. The Morgendorffers, upstart bourgeoisie that they were, occupied a comfy middle spot on the chain of sycophancy. Jane hadn't been invited, of course, so that precluded the possibility of any interesting conversation. Pelinal Day would just be another opportunity for idiots to fake Imperial loyalty for the sake of networking and getting a spot closer to the head table next time around.

The priest rang the bell. Daria sighed, already thinking of ways to avoid the morons that evening.

Musical Closer - Material Girl, by Madonna

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 03:45 AM

[Acadian]

What fun to have Quinn’s perspective on this festival! While in some ways her light and airheaded airy views, notions and priorities actually contain quite a bit of wisdom – in their own Quinnishly logical way. I love how she sees the opportunities the evening ahead can provide. And her perceived challenges. . . . Not the least of which is this one:
’Now she'd have to do all that looking as unfashionable as Daria!’

I must confess that even my own elf ascribes to the sentiment, 'Why adventure if you can't look good doing it?'


Then a sharp gear change as we move to Daria’s ever so much more dour perspective. Less fun and optimistic but not without her own rather realistic and piercing insights.

Are we sure these two sisters were manufactured in the same womb?

[SubRosa]

Acadian: Maybe Daria needs some Dwemer glasses with built in windshield wipers?

I know you were joking about Quinn and Daria coming from the same mother. But if you squint, you can see it. You just have to look at mom. She is a relentlessly driven career woman who has had to not just fight tooth and nail to get where she is, but also to play the games of politics and flattery and playing nice with people you would just as soon spit on. Which is to say, she's a successful lawyer.

Daria got the intelligence, pragmatism, and razor sharp perception that makes her Mom a good lawyer. Quinn got the ability socially manipulate people for her own personal benefit, sans all the rest above. Both Daria and Quinn are two halves of the same coin that way. Each lacks the things that makes the other strongest.



WellTemperedClavier: Thank you Daria for bringing up that we are celebrating an insane genocidal warlord. Erm, I mean national hero.

I found the scene from Quinn' perspective both amusing and insightful. While shallow and self-centered, she at least understands some realities, like how getting people to live you is a form of accruing power, and one that is definitely beneficial to survival. And lets face it, being attractive is a part of that. Not the entirety of it. But a part nonetheless. Numerous studies have shown that people who are attractive are hired more, promoted more, and paid more, than everyone else.

Aha! Tom does rear his not-so-ugly head. Even if only in second-hand fashion.

It is almost whiplash when we turn to Daria's inner monologue and observations! But in a good way. She always has a wonderful outsider's point of view into the hypocrisy and naked greed and power of whatever society she is unwillingly thrust into.

[Renee]

Yeah, that's right. I forgot the silt strider goes to Seyda Neen at best. It wouldn't go to Pelagiad because that seems to be more of an Imperial town, I guess. Oh cool. Lake Amaya. I just looked that up. So they are getting near their destination.

"Graceful emperor parasols"... is that the real name for all the giant mushroom trees? ... Even if not, I'll take it!

Uh oh.

-- "Jane, don't you think it's a little convenient that your deities look like regular Dunmer in gold paint?--

See, I never thought of it like this! But it's SO true, Clavier. This seems to be near the heart of the whole Tribunal debate, sort of like the way the Empire rejects Talos as a god. I learn so much from this story. 🤓 Because honestly, a lot of the Morrowind politics I've heard are so amazing (compared to Oblivion) confuse the heck out of me. I'm learning them slowly as I write Joan's story. So it's good to learn them from this 'fun' perspective.

But yeah, uh oh. Daria's in trouble with Jane. And isn't this how it can always go during one of our road trips here on Earth? We're all in the car. Somebody says the wrong thing. That's all it takes! Next thing we know, there's all kinds of snippy words followd by stony silence! ... and there are ... oh.... 216 miles left to go.

Okay I'll shush now.

"Free Farmers Fair" Yeah, the Halfway is pretty small as it is. Sucks they have to sleep in the mud.

Oh gosh. Now Jane's mad about no ferry. This trip is so miserable!

Alright, I'm up to Post 97 today. I am determined to catch up to the others today.

Oh no, she's giving her mom's incense away. And there's a nix hound! Yeah, I was wondering where all the hostile critters are. DAmn. They pwned the thing at least. Phew.

Daria wasn't sure if she believed in a god. But she knew she believed in faith.

That's so perfect.

This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 12 2022, 02:23 PM

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 2

Why did food have to be so tempting?

The nice thing about Morrowind was that a lot of the food was actually healthy, even if it looked gross. No one ever got fat from eating bugs, Satheri always said. But whatever they cooked in the kitchen that night wasn't bugs, but the stuff she used to eat as a kid: pork with fish sauce, porridge drenched in olive oil, and sweetened tripe. Maybe she could indulge this one time.

Nope! Nothing doing. She had an image to protect. If the Empire had to look strong, she had to look fashionable.

Her stomach growled. "Quiet," she whispered. Oh, but she could already taste the porridge, probably with little pieces of fried egg. She hadn't had that in forever! She wondered how her old friends in Charach were doing. Simpler times when a girl could just be a girl.

Best to put her mind elsewhere. What she liked about big events was that the arranged seating let you see who was popular. The Ergallas were sitting right up next to the big head table now, so Sephannia's grandpa must've gotten promoted. But the Morcuris, who supposedly had a lot of money, were almost right at the door. Probably meant people wouldn't want to hang out with their daughter anymore.

One of the priestesses, a really wrinkly old lady with a whole bunch of swirly red lines tattooed on her face, stood up at the head table and raised her arms. Everyone stopped talking. Some soldiers came into the room with musical instruments: horns, flutes, drums, and a few lyres.

Ugh, it was going to be traditional Cyrodiilic music! Why couldn't they get some bard from Skyrim or High Rock? Those places had the best songs, actual ballads with stories and romance. Not just droning noise and chants. Oh well.

The musicians started playing, and Quinn faked a smile. The priestess walked to the middle of the room.

"Hearken ye to the days before Cyrodiil yet was, to the days when Mer enslaved Man..." she proclaimed.

Quinn focused on the table where all the Dunmer sat. She spotted him right away: Turimar Shurmam. He was big and brawny for a Dunmer, with enormous arms that could definitely wrestle a wild animal to the ground but that you'd feel totally safe in if he was hugging you with them. His hair was incredible too! Long, dark, with a few airy curls! He had to spend a lot of time on it to get it to look that way, and maybe that was a little weird for a guy, but who cared when he looked that good!

"...in armor star-forged and blood-streaked, Pelinal pledged death to the enemies of Man..."

And he was rich. She didn't see anyone who might be his parents over there.

"...and so Pelinal emerged from battle clad in robes of Mer entrails and his head crowned with Mer fingers..."

Turimar shifted in his seat, looking like he didn't want to be there. Maybe he was a poetic and sensitive type deep down or something, but still brave and courageous and all that.

"...Pelinal called out Haromir of Copper and Tea into a duel at the Tor, and ate his neck-veins..."

He was her ticket out. Her whole family's ticket out! Mom and Dad weren't going to get any farther. All their clients were boring businesspeople like them. Quinn knew she was the only one who could make the jump to someone in the high life.

"...no heart beat in his chest but only the red rage of an Empire yet unborn..."

Once they got there, they'd have won. They'd be sitting almost at the head table, like Briltasi's stepmom. Visits to the markets of Vivec, Narsis, and maybe the Imperial City. Parties, galas, and all the best dresses from the best designers in the world! She just needed to find the right guy. It was all up to her. Daria would never cut it. Books only got you another boring job.

"...to storm the White-Gold in blood and rage and cast down the Sorcerer-Kings and break their ancestors beneath his mailed feet!"

The priestess, who was all sweaty now, let her arms fall. The music kept playing. Now for the worst part of the whole thing: the blood.

"In honor of Pelinal, let us adorn our faces with the blood of Man's foes," the priestess said.

Not real blood, at least, but still gross. Daria had said that the red paint was symbolic of Mer blood or something like that. More cult priests walked into the room and put a bowl of red paint on each table. Dad took the one offered to theirs, dipped his right hand in, and then smeared a big red streak on his forehead. Mom did the same. Daria took off her glasses and slathered fake blood all over her face so that it dripped down her neck.

"This symbolic viscera doesn't quite have the right texture to be convincing," Daria said. Mom and Dad glared at her. "It needs to be chunkier."

Quinn rolled her eyes. The bowl passed to her, so she put it on the table like a civilized person would and dabbed a few fingers into the stuff. She applied some to her forehead and then drew a vertical streak from crown to chin (horizontal lines would make her face look fat) and a bit more on her cheekbones to highlight them. Best of all, the yellow fabric of her dress matched the red!

The musicians played until everyone was done, and then they finally stopped. One of the army guys at the head table stood up.

"Thank you, Sister Armatia, for reminding us of the humble and valorous origins of the First Empire. Though we live under the aegis of the Third, I do see our era as a direct continuation of St. Alessia's passion and Pelinal's fury."

He gestured over to the Dunmer notables at the Hlaalu table. "And of course, under the Third Empire, Man and Mer are now fellow citizens. The modern Imperial project is only possible through the aid of conscientious Mer citizens like the ones who have so honored us with their presence tonight. The Empire is cruel to its enemies, but only so that it can be good to its friends.

"And with our obeisances to heroes paid, let the feast begin!"

Everyone clapped. And looking at the red faces all through the room, she'd totally done the best job of applying the fake blood. If she had to pretend to be a berserk warrior, she'd at least look like a stylish one. Snagging Turimar and ensuring her family's future might depend on it!

*********

The important part of dinner, of course, came after dinner: the mingling and the dancing. She almost didn't believe it when some trained bards came out with instruments people actually listened to, like lutes and pipes. And then couples started going to the big space between the tables and, for a second, the boring old stone fort felt like a ballroom in the Imperial City! Or at least what she was pretty sure a ballroom in the Imperial City might look like.

"Oh, it's been so long since I've danced," she sighed.

"Not long enough, in my case," Daria said.

Quinn hoped she still remembered all the steps. They were dancing an allemande—was that two skips before the turn, or three? Whatever, she had to get down to business. But first, she wanted to chat with Satheri for last-minute info about Turimar. Quinn got out of her chair and walked over, still holding her goblet.

Satheri knew style, no doubt about that, but she hadn't done a good job with the fake blood. She'd smeared it across one side of her face and some of it had dripped down and stained her collar.

"Oh no!" Quinn exclaimed. "Fashion emergency. Ugh, I wish they didn't use red. But it's pretty dim in here. I don't think anyone will notice."

"Uh, I hope not," Satheri said. Her shoulders were all bunched up, like she wanted to hide from the world. Not a good look!

"Calm down, Satheri. You still look great."

"I do? Thanks. That stuff about Pelinal kind of scared me."

"Huh? Why?"

Satheri shivered. "Well, that lady was talking about how Pelinal killed Mer. I'm a Mer, Quinn."

Quinn waved her hand. "Oh, no, it's not like that! That was a different group of Mer he killed, the Ayleids or something, who were like so mean to my ancestors. I'm sure Pelinal didn't have a problem with Dunmer. He probably had a lot of Dunmer friends. All the cool Imperials do."

Satheri smiled and sniffed. "Well, we were called Chimer back then. But you think so? We didn't like the Ayleids either, but sometimes humans don't—"

"I know so. Maybe he had a Dunmer or Chimer or whatever girlfriend for a while! And he was a hero, so he must've been really handsome!"

"Oh! If I'd been around back then, do you think I could've been betrothed to Pelinal? Or wait, not Pelinal, I'm sure he'd marry an Imperial girl like you, but maybe I could've been betrothed to some other hero?"

"I'm sure you would have been! And speaking of handsome," Quinn said, pointing to Turimar who wasn't dancing yet. "Anything else I should know?"

"Okay, so his dad's a noble. Turimar's set to inherit, and he does a lot of work for his dad, so he'll be like super-rich!"

"Perfect!"

Quinn heard some chattering voices behind her and looked over her shoulder. Ugh! It was them: Jonus, Julien, and Jeval.

"Quinn, will you dance with me?" Jonus begged.

"I'll dance with you twice!" Julien promised.

"I'll dance with you better than Jonus or Julien can!" Jeval offered.

"Satheri, can you distract them for me?" Quinn whispered.

"Of course! Good luck, Muthsera Morgendorffer!"

Quinn smiled. Only unfashionable people needed luck. Well, luck was still good for things like tests, but that was about it. She drew herself up and approached the handsome Dunmer. He looked bored. She tried to figure the best angle—be sympathetic? Challenge him? If he'd saved some random human woman—who'd better not still be dating him—than maybe she should act like she needed help. She got it: new girl confused and overwhelmed by Morrowind and who needed a good Dunmer guy to help her out.

Quinn stood right next to the Hlaalu table. Turimar had pushed his chair back, hands behind his head, and legs crossed. She inched a little closer. Look at me, you dummy, she thought.

He kept looking straight ahead. She sighed; guys never made it easy.

Quinn raised her goblet as if to drink, and then let go so that it fell on the floor and rolled toward Turimar. Her eyes narrowed as it rolled, the contents puddling out onto the stone.

Pick it up, she thought.

The goblet finally hit his shoe and stopped. Quinn tensed up. Now was the moment.

He kept staring.

Dammit!

"Excuse me, sera, but I believe I have dropped my drinking vessel. Would you be so kind as to pick it up?" Quinn asked, annoyed that she had to.

Turimar finally noticed her. His chin was perfect, like you could crack walnuts with it. "Huh?"

"My goblet?"

He shrugged.

Annoyed, Quinn put her hands on her hips. "Usually, you pick something up when someone drops it." He sure didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd fight a monster to save someone.

Turimar grunted, then leaned down and picked up the goblet with one massive hand. This was more like it. Even better, he was grabbing a pitcher of wine to refill it. Things were going her way.

He refilled it and then brought it to his lips and drank deep.

"You were supposed to give that back to me!" she protested.

"What? I'm the one who picked it up. Don't I deserve the reward?" He followed it up with a laugh.

"Ugh! You deserve a kick to the shins. I bet you never wrestled that kagouti!"

"Sure, I did. I wrestle kagouti all the time. How do you think I got these?" He raised his arms and flexed. Then he let his arms fall and made a crooked smile.

Okay, the smile was interesting. Like he was kidding around about all that?

He then looked Quinn up and down, like he was finally paying attention to her. "You don't look that bad. You want to dance?"

Did she? He was so rude! At least he didn't constantly suck up to her. Plus, he was the best prospect available, according to Satheri, and she knew her stuff.

"I should turn you down. But I'll give you one chance."

"Okay," he said, getting up from his chair and going toward her.

"Just one!"

"Whatever."

Turimar scooped her up in his arms like she weighed nothing. Quinn gasped as he led her across the floor, his big hands wrapping around hers. This proved it: the stories (well, story, singular) about him had to be true. This guy really was the stuff heroes were made out of! So what if he had some rough edges?

Next thing she knew, they were circling each other. He took her hand and guided her through a minuet and then a gavotte. Turimar was built like a Nord, but he danced between the others as gracefully as you'd expect from a Mer.

"Where did you learn how to dance so well?" Quinn asked as they settled into another allemande. She was already flushed—she probably looked ridiculous with her face covered in sweat and fake blood, but so did everyone else. This guy controlled the dance floor, and she could see how the other ladies looked at them as they glided past.

"I lived in Cheydinhal for some years. Doing business for my dad."

"You must have a lot of money."

"Tons of it. And I ain't afraid to spend for a good time. This dinky little party is nothing."

"I bet you must've gone to way better ones. I wish I could go to those."

He grinned. "You gotta know the right people; grease the right palms."

"What do you think of Balmora?" she asked.

He made a grunting laugh. "Balmora is boring. I grew up in Narsis, and that place is way better. More parties, more drinks, more babes."

Quinn pretended she hadn't heard the last bit. "Balmora is so dull," she said. "I wish I could get out of here." She locked eyes with him when she said that, going for that sad look. As if she needed his help.

"You from here?"

"No." For a second, she thought about saying she was from the glitz and glamour of the Imperial City. But if this was going to be long-term, it'd be better to be honest. Well, not totally honest. More like two-thirds honest and one-third creative.

"I was born in Charach, but I basically grew up in Anvil," she said. Anvil was glamorous enough. Plus, it's where the big temple to Dibella was!

He smiled that crooked smile again, and it was like his eyes saw right past her. "Oh yeah? I bet you're just saying that to make yourself look good."

Quinn blushed. "No, we're a respectable family! We had a nice apartment. And now we rent a house!"

"On your way up, I see." He didn't sound like he meant it.

Now she was getting mad. But she didn't break the dance. "My dad is a big business consultant who helps Imperial merchants do their work here. And my mom's a lawyer. So yeah!"

"Take it easy. I like ambition," he said as he twirled her past Jolda and Maiko.

"Oh, you do?"

"Sure. I say, take what you can get. It's a tough world out there."

"You're so wise," Quinn said.

Relaxing, Quinn let Turimar carry her through the dances. And again, she felt like she was flying, the candle lights and smiling faces spinning around her like she was the center of the world.

The musicians finally stopped. He bowed, she curtsied, and he made that crooked smile again! Quinn blushed. So this guy was interesting. A little crude, but what could you expect from someone who beat up monsters? It felt like he was about to show her the most incredible things, and she only had to work a little harder to go along.

Of course, he had said that thing about "babes" in Narsis. Sometimes Quinn wished she could just forget weird things other people said, but her brain wouldn't let her. She guessed Daria had the same problem. Anyway, it was okay if he had a girl in every town, as long as he cut them off once Quinn came into the picture.

Time to tell Mom and Dad!

Musical Closer - Synphoniaci, by Synaulia

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 03:49 AM

[Acadian]

By default, I assumed this episode started from Daria’s perspective. By the second paragraph I smiled as, based on her observations/concerns, I realized this was written from Quinn’s perspective. That highlights how sharp the contrast between the two sisters is - and what a great job you’ve done at presenting them both.

I love the sharp contrast also between Quinn’s internal dialogue and the gory musical history lesson presented by the priestess. Culminating of course with Quinn applying the ‘blood’ as artfully as any makeup. After all, she realizes her family’s future might depend upon how she presents herself!

Quinn is certainly talented as she skillfully tends to the fashion woes and allays the fears of Satheri.

She is also quite focused on the target of her quest to marry up.

Now that we’ve met Turimar, the advice that comes to mind for Quinn is ‘be careful what you wish for’. A rich, handsome jerk is still a jerk. And remember, he’s a mer; even if he’s drawn in by Quinn’s looks, that beauty will only last for the blink of an eye to a mer who can measure his life in centuries instead of decades.

[Renee]

Sweat was the enemy. Sure, Quinn had lots of enemies: cheap kohl, those lacy veils that Nibenese women wore that got stuck on your makeup, bad hair days, bad pores

Oh gosh this just killed me! Did not expect! ... Quinn sounds like more of a princess than Daria for sure.

I love dad. Dad just comes across as such a ... dad. In the same vein as Homer or Hank Hill...sort of falsely cheeful as he makes an effort to keep it all together.

I like that you made the journey from Balmora to Moonmoth 6 miles. Indeed, I like to think what we see in the game is just a scaled-down representation of distance.

"The soldiers had decorated the fort as best they could, but there was only so much you could do with bare stone"

Ah jeez! this story's hilarious! ... The part when she says "Gosh, this must be so exciting. There are a lot of cute outlander guys, too. It almost makes me wish I wasn't in an arranged marriage." ... Your'e killing me today! ... Panic opens your pores!!!!

... Did you have fun while writing this, WTC? The thing I'm noticing most is how Quinn was complaining so much until she sees her friends. After that it's like she completely changes. You really know a lot about mall princesses!

The nice thing about Morrowind was that a lot of the food was actually healthy, even if it looked gross. No one ever got fat from eating bugs, Satheri always said.

Ha! Very true. It explains the lack of obesity in these games, although the common thing we all read in history books is that obesity was actually pretty rare during the Middle Ages. Still though.

She says "quiet" to her own tummy when it growls!

Turimar sounds like quite the man's man. Wouldn't it be great if he's actually gay? ... Just like Cher's crush in Clueless all over again.

Oh gosh... what's this with the red paint??? .. Yeesh, this is weird!

Whoa, Quinn sounds like she's hooking up! And Woo hoo! I'm finally caught up with the others!! But yeah, I wonder where this thing with Turimar is going.

[SubRosa]

I got right into Quinn's head here. She may as well be musing over the delicacy of air-popped, no-salt, no-butter, popcorn. Mmmm, tasty. But that was for simpler times, when a girl could just be popular...

I love how you juxtaposed the priestess sermonizing about Pelinal's bloody deeds with Quinn fantasizing about the hunky Dunmer guy!

I loved Quinn strategizing about how to approach the Hunkmer.

The Hunkmer is turning out to not be all that Quinn had hoped for. First I thought he might be gay. But then I realized he is just self-absorbed, rude, and kind of dumb. Ok, he's Tommy Sherman! Yep, he just a self-absorbed ass. I hope a pylon falls on him. It would really make you think...

I think Daria does indeed have that same problem of remembering the red flags that people throw up in your face....

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 3

Satheri never had the stamina for dancing. She knew it was unfashionable to stop early, but wasn't it also unfashionable to get too sweaty? Quinn looked good no matter what, so she could dance all night. Not everyone was so lucky. Thus, she sat down with her mother before the first set ended and smiled when she saw Turimar bow before Quinn. Just like the Empire, Quinn always got what she wanted.

The words from the earlier speech echoed in her mind. "... and his head crowned with Mer fingers..." Satheri shuddered and again felt very sick and small.

She knew that Pelinal had only fought Ayleids, not Dunmer. She also knew that Quinn had been trying to make her feel better and that Pelinal probably wouldn't have seen the difference between the Ayleids and her ancestors. And that now her people were subjects of the Empire, and that the point of the speech was to remind the Dunmer that they'd best cooperate so they didn't end up as dead as the Ayleids.

Satheri sniffed and drank some of her wine, wishing she were back home in her comfy adobe house and far from the drafty stone fort. The Ayleids had enslaved early humans and treated them horribly. She knew a lot of Dunmer still did awful things to Khajiit and Argonians, but not to the Imperials. Dad always said that the Empire was the best friend Great House Hlaalu had. So she didn't know what her people had done to make the Empire hate and fear them so.

She doubted any answer would make her feel better.

*********

"Dude, Turimar's been dancing with Quinn all night!" Jonus complained.

The trio had not been dancing. Instead, they sat in the shadows and watched as Turimar took their goddess for one spin after another.

"Yeah, it isn't fair. He should give one of us a chance," Julien said.

Jeval shrugged. "We could ask some other girls."

Jonus glared at him. "No, stupid! If we dance with someone else, then Quinn won't think we're into her!"

Julien's hands closed into fists. "Hey, I was thinking. There's three of us and one of him. Maybe we should teach him a lesson."

"Are you crazy?" Jeval shook his head. "That guy's sitting right next to the head table. He's got important friends. We don't."

Jonus growled. "Crap, you're right."

"Well, my great-uncle is a count in Shornhelm," Julien said. "Or maybe a baron. I forget. But I guess that's pretty far away. Let's just get to Quinn before he does."

"I still think we should try some other girls," Jeval said. Noticing his two friends already hurrying toward Quinn, he shrugged and followed along.

*********

The best thing about dancing with a handsome guy was gloating about it afterward. Especially to someone like Daria, who always pretended like it didn't bother her, even though it totally did. The whole family was back at their middle place table (they'd soon be at a higher place!), with Mom and Dad taking a break from the dance floor. Daria had been reading, as usual.

"Well, you certainly seemed to be dancing up a storm!" Mom said.

"Yeah! Who's the lucky fella?" Dad asked.

Quinn went for the coy look, eyes up to the ceiling. "Oh, just some guy. His name is Turimar Shurmam, and he's really rich. I think he likes me."

"Of course he'd like you, sweetie," Dad said. "Everyone does."

"So does this Turimar have any redeeming qualities? Last I checked, wealth wasn't a sign of good character, particularly when it comes to Hlaalu," Daria said, not looking up from her book.

Quinn smirked. "For your information, Daria, he's also a hero. He beat up a bunch of kagouti with his bare hands to save some woman's life."

Daria finally glanced over at Turimar, who was drinking with some friends. "Uh huh. And next you'll be telling me that he annexed Akavir all to impress you."

This got Mom's attention. She crossed her arms and gave Daria one of those looks. "You know, Daria, you haven't been doing much tonight."

"On the contrary, I've been working very hard to avoid socializing."

"Which isn't helpful for us right now. At least Quinn is making some connections!"

"Yeah!" Quinn said.

"You gotta give them a chance, Daria," Dad said.

She put down her book and glared. "Why? So you can watch me stumble over my own feet like you know I will? So I can endure the sycophants that you want to call your peers?"

"Daria, I don't have the time to argue with you," Mom scolded. "This is a great opportunity for you to secure a future in this place, and you're letting it slip by!"

"Maybe she's not as smart as she thinks," Quinn said.

"How can you call this an opportunity?" Daria demanded.

Mom flipped. "That's it! You will go on the dance floor once the musicians resume, young lady, and you will act like you're enjoying yourself. Make at least one social connection by the end of the night, or there will be consequences!"

"Fine." Daria put her book on the table and got up. She looked at Quinn and gave a creepy fake smile through the red blot over her face. "Have fun with your new boy toy. I guarantee he'll be as spoiled, petty, and cruel as everyone else you like."

Quinn stuck her tongue out at Daria. That always felt good.

Daria went off to sulk while Quinn chatted with Mom and Dad. Mom usually nodded off when Quinn told her about things like this. But Mom listened to every boring thing Daria said for some reason, and all she got in return was attitude.

"I'm glad you met this Turimar. He sounds delightful," Mom said.

"Oh, he is, Mom, he really is."

"Maybe we could meet him?" Dad asked.

"How about after the dance? I think the musicians are going to start again pretty soon, and we don't want to rush this," Quinn said.

Mom looked worried for a second. "Speaking of rushing things... as good as Turimar seems, you haven't known him for long. You're still far too young to be married, and I'm concerned that Turimar's family might own—"

Quinn rolled her eyes. Mom loved worrying about things. "Oh my gosh! I'm not going to marry him tonight! But you know, maybe we can start working toward an engagement or something. I can always break it off later if I find someone better."

"That's the spirit!" Dad cheered. Mom didn't seem quite as happy, but turned her attentions back to Dad when the music started.

Quinn left her parents' table, but not fast enough to avoid Jonus, Julien, and Jeval, who swarmed her all at once.

"Quinn, please dance with me! I've been waiting all night!" Jonus begged.

"No, dance with me! I've been waiting since the night before!" Julien fell to his knees.

"Just dance with one of them so they shut up about it," Jeval muttered.

Quinn usually loved to give them little jobs they could fight and argue over, but she wouldn't have time to enjoy it that night.

"You know what? Grow a spine, and I'll be impressed," Quinn said.

"I'll grow the best spine ever!" Jonus promised.

"I'll grow two spines!" Julien countered. "That are also the best ever!"

"Spines don't even work that way, dumbasses," Jeval muttered.

But Quinn was already long gone.

Musical Closer - Oops, I Did It Again, by Britney Spears

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 03:51 AM

[Acadian]

Neat little look into Satheri’s mind. Though she shares much of Quinn’s keen fashion preoccupation, she also harbors some provocative insights into the relationship and history of Imperials and Dunmer. I expect she’s not far from the truth.

A well-done family scene during the musicians’ break with Quinn predictably rubbing things in and Daria dourly (but truthfully) pointing out the hypocrisy. Mom focused on networking possibilities and Dad cheerfully oblivious.

"I'll grow two spines!" Julien countered. "That are also the best ever!"

[Renee]

Hey, didn't you say you posted Outlanders in some other forum already? I don't want to read it there if so, I like waiting for each new chapter to be posted. But I'm curious which other forum, if there is one. Maybe I'll join there, if so. Because I don't think Beth has reopened their forums yet, if they ever will.

the red paint idea is great. Fits right in with a culture which evolved from native times, and still has a lot of ashlanders to remind them of where they once were, for sure.

I can see why Satheri is concerned, but I don't think the Imperials would want to wipe out the Dunmer, as they did with the Ayleids. But yes, there is that threat. Those Impies can be heavy-handed at times.

The part when the trio is complaining about dancing is so much like high school. Middle school, everyone would be too nervous to even get out there. This is hilarious, again.

The best thing about dancing with a handsome guy was gloating about it afterward. Especially to someone like Daria, who always pretended like it didn't bother her, even though it totally did.

Oh jeez! This is so funny.!

See, I think the answer is not to force Daria on the dance floor (as mom suggests). Her beau, whoever he is, is likely going to be more of an introvert.

Hmm, question is, what is "wrong" with Turimar? Gotta be something...

This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 17 2022, 05:16 PM

[SubRosa]

Satheri seems to have a pretty good grip on just what Imperialism means. And also seems to at least somewhat grasp that while the Dunmer are not in a privileged position vis a vis the Empire, other races are likewise even less privileged vis a vis her own race. Though it looks like she is still a long way from truly understanding how there are many forms of interlocking privelige and oppression. That's ok, I am sure the Empire gets it, that is how Imperialism works, when its effective.

The Three Jeffies reminded me of one of the episodes where they did indeed gang up on someone else who was getting a little too successful with Quinn. I think there was a like a 5-way fight in the parking lot?

Last I checked, wealth wasn't a sign of good character, particularly when it comes to Hlaalu
Thank you Daria, for checking in. And Ooh Burn!

One thing I love about Quinn, is that she always says the quite part out loud. Like how she can always break off the engagement later if she finds someone better. There are no pretexts there.

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 4

Daria wished she'd brought a thicker book with her, since it'd be much more satisfying to hit someone with a heavier tome than with the slender one she had. Clobbering someone with a book wouldn't help (and would, in fact, create more problems), but it was certainly tempting.

She eyed the mob of gallivanting idiots around her and sighed. One social connection. But Mom might as well have asked her to climb Red Mountain.

Hovering at the edge of the party, her arms crossed and her eyes flinty, she almost walked past a skinny young Imperial whose drab brown hair stuck out from his head in wild defiance of gravity. Leaning against the stone wall, he observed the crowd through a gaze of heavy-lidded indifference.

At last, sanity.

"Are you also here to help your family keep up the appearance of imperial patriotism?" Daria asked.

"That and social networking. Though networking is arguably another form of performative patriotism." He turned to face her. "My name is Luhrman."

"Daria," she introduced herself. "My mother insisted that I make one social connection tonight."

"My father gave me a similar dictate."

Daria was sort of impressed at how his monotone rivaled her own.

"Assuming your family meets an arbitrary measure of respectability," she said, "I can probably count you as that connection."

"So long as you return the favor. As for respectability, my father runs a moth-silk import business out in Suran."

"My mother's a lawyer, bringing the Empire's venal legalism to yet another province. So, mission accomplished?"

Luhrman nodded. "It does seem that way."

"Good. Thank you for your time. I'm sure the Empire will remember our contributions to forced socialization."

"Long may our sacrifice be remembered," Luhrman intoned. He turned his gaze back to the party.

Satisfied that she'd completed her mission, Daria stood next to the nearest torch and resumed her book.

*********

"How do I look?" Quinn asked.

She had run over to Satheri and Tiphannia for a touch-up before the next set. She kept watching Turimar out of the corner of her eye. No way would she let some other girl grab him! Lucky for her, he was still hanging out and laughing about guy stuff (probably) with some rich Imperials.

"You look... really... good..."

"I think you're perfect," Satheri gushed. "I wish I had hair like yours. Mine gets all messy once I start moving around."

"Anyone's hair can be perfect with the right treatments!"

"You're sure I'm okay?" Quinn asked.

They both nodded, and Quinn was off. Already she could imagine it: this dull party near a dull city was only the beginning of her ascent. And Turimar could show her the way. He'd been around. He knew things! Might not be easy, but Quinn could beat the competition. No one else knew fashion the way she did, from pore management to proper manicure techniques! Sure, she didn't have the same kinds of beauty routines as a noblewoman, but she knew how to improvise, which was totally better and would probably impress a tough guy like Turimar more anyway.

"... so I was dancing with this hick girl from someplace called Charach," Turimar said to his pals.

Quinn skidded to a halt. She hadn't just heard that. Or maybe there was someone else from back home? Other than Daria?

"That's on some little island, right? She wash up here on a fishing boat?" one of his buddies joked.

"Probably. And she was all going on about her mom being a lawyer or something. Lady, my dad runs the biggest tanna plantations around Narsis. He has a dozen lawyers on his payroll. But one thing I will say is that lowborn girls are always the easiest lays."

He might as well have hit her! Quinn's jaw dropped, her whole body suddenly cold. All that effort, and he didn't care.

"Like that Nord girl who thought you'd killed a monster for her?" Another one of his friends said.

"Yup!"

"You!" Quinn shouted.

They ignored her. She quaked, and she knew right then that her face was the same color red as the paint still on it, which probably made her look weird and blotchy, but she didn't care.

"I'm talking to you!"

Turimar turned. She wanted to see fear in his eyes, like he knew he was really going to get it. That he'd lost his only chance with the best girl in Morrowind, if not all of Tamriel. But he was just wearing that same crooked smile.

Time to let him have it.

"I heard every word! 'Hick girl,' huh? Well, at least I'm not making fun of people when I think they aren't looking, or pretending to be a hero! And I don't care if your dad is some big shot in Narsis or whatever. I think you're trash!"

"Oh no," he said. "Little boat girl thinks I'm trash."

Quinn stomped the floor, clenched her teeth, and grabbed Turimar by the front of his coat, and it felt so damn good to see the sudden shock on his face.

"You'll be sorry," Quinn vowed. "I'll tell everyone what I heard. You're no hero. You never fought a kagouti!"

The shock didn't last long. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands off him with ease. "Say whatever you want. You think anyone's going to go against me when it might cost them a business deal with my dad? Hell, I'll tell people whatever I want about you. See if your folks still get any clients after that. I've got big friends in Great House Hlaalu and the Empire."

They all laughed. Turimar, his Imperial friends, the whole gang. Quinn's vision flickered.

This couldn't be happening.

Next thing she knew, she was sitting on the hard stone steps outside the keep and crying her eyes out. Oh gods, she was a mess, she knew. All the makeup mixed with the fake blood, which she'd been so careful to apply just right.

How could he say something like that? Everything she'd worked for was undone. And maybe the same for the rest of her family. She whimpered when she thought of Mom and Dad losing the house because Turimar turned all their clients against them. They'd be poor, and she'd have to gather herbs and crush them to make her own cosmetics or something, and she'd look like a beggar!

This was the worst day of her life.

The door opened behind her, soft footsteps treading on the stone. Satheri sat down beside her before Quinn had time to fix her face.

"Quinn, what happened?"

"Oh, Satheri. It was horrible." Quinn hugged her friend tight, wanting to lose herself in the hug, so that she forgot the entire night. She told her the whole story between sobs.

"Wait, Quinn?"

Quinn sniffed. "Uh huh?"

They let go of each other, but Satheri put her hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Maybe it was a misunderstanding. Sometimes guys like to joke about stuff like that to their friends."

And for a second, Quinn almost believed it. That made sense, right? Except it didn't. "No, I don't think it was a joke."

"Well, Turimar is part of Great House Hlaalu, even if he isn't yet a noble," Satheri said, sounding nervous. "My dad says we wouldn't let bad people get that much influence. That's why we're the best great house. And a friend to the Empire."

Quinn blinked. What was Satheri talking about? What did politics have to do with this? Then she got it: everyone still thought Turimar was great. Including Satheri.

For a second, Quinn wanted to shout at Satheri. How could she not get this? But looking at her big, sad eyes, Quinn saw that Satheri wanted to help.

She just had no idea how.

"It's cold; I'm going back inside," Quinn said. Better to go back in. Maybe she could sulk with Daria or something. Daria would believe her about Turimar being a jerk. She thought everyone was a jerk because she was one, too.

"Great! Talk to Turimar again—"

Quinn didn't wait for her to finish before going back through the open gate. Sure enough, Daria stood at the edge of the hall, still reading. A guy stood near her but looked like he was zoning out. Anyway, Quinn didn't want to hear her sister gloat about being right. Jonus and Julien argued about something—probably her—while Jeval danced with a Redguard girl. Good for him.

She didn't want to talk to anyone. She wanted to be alone. So she walked with careful steps toward one of the side doors, hoping it'd lead to a cellar or something where she could stay away from everyone. Pushing it open, she saw a narrow stone landing absolutely packed with people all shouting about something.

"What's going on—"

The crowd parted, and she saw Turimar Shurmam lying on his back with his throat slit wide open.

Musical Closer - Atari Teenage Riot, by Atari Teenage Riot (NSFW Lyrics)

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 03:54 AM

[Acadian]

I chuckled all the way through Daria’s two peas in a pod encounter with Luhrman and how it completed the family obligation assigned by her mother.

I knew there was good reason Turimar was emitting so many red flags. Yup, a rich jerk is still a jerk. Poor Quinn. But even in her deep despair, she holds onto her Quinnishness:
’They'd be poor and she'd have to gather herbs and crush them to make her own cosmetics or something and she'd look like a beggar!’

As Quinn was getting ready to head inside, I was wondering if the Dark Brotherhood operated in Morrowind so she could pray to the Night Mother. . . or if it was the Morag Tong that did that kind of thing in TES III. . . . Then, there he was all properly taken care of! I wonder who Quinn has to thank for that? Of course, being falsely accused of murdering Turimar due to her earlier and quite visible argument with him could be a bit of a problem too.

[Renee]

Thanks for the Fandom site, I'll check it out this weekend. Fandom is an annoying conglomeration of sites it seems, with all their pop-up ads. But maybe that's the point. If I join there, maybe all those pop-ups go away.

My middle school dance floor experiences were better than my high school ones! Middle school was all about puppy-love crushes, whereas high school was too much expectation, and even more disappointment!

Ahem. Luhrman seems ideal for Daria. Even more ideal than Quinn's current crush. Aw nice. They even have the same off-brand, offhand humor. This is so cute! ... No, don't go back to your book Daria! What are ya doing, girl???

OTOH, I already feel really bad for the Mall Princess. She's going to get let down somehow. It'll be more like my high school experience at Senior Prom. Oh crap.

Yeah, kick his ass, Quinn. Arrogant losers like him. Even though she is quite arrogant herself, and maybe shouldn't have thrown herself at the guy..

WHOA... Whaaat????

[SubRosa]

Poor Daria, geased with a quest to climb the Red Mountain of making a social connection. Yeesh, you would think the first quest would be easier, like fighting rats...

When Lurhman speaks I hear it in the voice of Stephen Wright. He reminds me of the guy from the wedding episode, who Daria hung out with for a little while.

Oh boy, buckle up Quinn. Tommy Sherman is not going to be impressed with you pore routine!

Wow, that was fast. Tommy Sherman shoes his true colors. Not just to Quinn, but that Nord girl too. No monster slayer is Tommy. He is the monster.

Satheri started out so strong, being a real, standup friend doing Quinn a solid. Then she totally lost the thread with her misconception of House Hlaalu's sterling ethics.

Okay, I know the episode from the TV episode. But I was not expecting the guy to have his throat slit. A decorative pylon fall on him - or some other form of accident - sure. But not outright murder. Then again, this is Morrowind. It is easier than ever to hire the Morag Thong to do someone in. Figuring out who was behind it... well, half the province has motive...

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 5

Quinn screamed as loud as she could.

But some part of her was actually kind of glad he was dead.

"Dammit, troopers! I told you to watch the exit!" came a voice. "Keep anyone else from getting in, we don't want to start a panic."

The soldiers nearest Quinn pulled her inside and then marched out the door she'd opened, closing it behind them. The only people left in the room were three legionnaires (one was Maiko, Jolda's friend who might also be her boyfriend on the down-low), Turimar's dead body, and a woman in the creepiest outfit Quinn had ever seen. The woman's face was wrapped up in dark netch leather like she was some kind of mummy, and she wore these crazy mismatched goggles where the right eyepiece was huge and the left one was a cluster of little lenses like a bug's eye. She was mostly covered up, but the few bare spots showed gray skin, so she was a Dunmer.

She held a bloody dagger in one gloved hand and a scroll in the other.

"Quinn Morgendorffer, right? I met your sister at the Talori party a few months ago," Maiko said.

"Uh, yeah."

"Take it easy; you're not in any trouble. Nothing's going to happen to you. You just had the bad luck to stumble into a sensitive situation."

"An insulting situation," growled the other soldier, and he gave the weird woman a nasty look.

"What happened?" Quinn started. Then she pointed at the woman. "Did she kill him?"

Maiko took a deep breath. "So before anything else, I'm going to have to ask you to be brave."

Quinn shivered. "Oh no. No one ever asks that when something good's going to happen!"

And this looked anything but good. A murder, a murderer, and a bunch of soldiers who didn't seem to be doing anything. This was like one of those coups or something!

"No, you're fine. No one else is going to die tonight," Maiko said, and he was so calm and sure that Quinn could almost believe him so long as she didn't look at Turimar's bloody corpse.

Maiko turned to the other soldier. "Sir Varro. May I make a recommendation?"

Varro made a grumbling sound. "Go ahead."

"I think it may be better to tell Quinn what happened here. We are trying to clamp down on rumors after all."

"Are you serious? This wisp of a girl? She'll gossip about it to all her friends."

Quinn shook her head. "I won't, sir."

"I trust her," Maiko said.

Varro thought about it a bit and glared at the woman again. "Very well. I suppose rumors will spread regardless of what we do."

"Quinn," Maiko said. "I'll explain what happened. But you need to promise not to tell anyone else. We will release the news later, but telling everyone now might scare some of the guests. Imperial policy is to avoid spreading panic in these situations. We definitely don't want to spoil Pelinal's Day for anyone."

Quinn's head was spinning. "Sure. I won't tell."

"Okay. Have you heard about the Morag Tong?"

The name sounded familiar. "Aren't they those thugs who really hate outlanders?"

Maiko shook his head. "No, that's the Camonna Tong. The Morag Tong is the traditional assassins' association of the Dunmer. One of their agents here," he said, pointing at the woman, "killed Turimar. But, under the terms of the Armistice, Morag Tong killings are legal."

"What? How does that even make sense? You can't just kill people and get away with it!" Quinn protested.

"No, not normally," Maiko said. "The Morag Tong only kill members of the great houses. It's basically how the great houses handle conflicts. A few targeted assassinations are less disruptive than a full-on war."

She'd never heard of this. "So these guys go out of their way to kill the rich and popular people?"

This changed everything! How was she supposed to enjoy being married to a high-ranking Hlaalu if she always had to worry about this? Then she looked at Turimar's body and thought about all the awful things he'd said.

Did she want to marry someone in Great House Hlaalu?

Dammit, Daria had been right. About Turimar, anyway. And what about Satheri? She'd taken Turimar's side... but maybe she wouldn't have if she'd seen what happened.

"Dunmer culture has a peculiar way of acknowledging the great chain of being," Varro grumbled. "In the west, simple men are honored to fight in the name of those greater than them. Among these savages, those who are great are expected to die from a knife in the dark so that lesser men might live."

Except Turimar was about as far from great as it got. She wondered if there was some other noble like him back in Cyrodiil or High Rock who people would've fought to defend back in the old days. The Dunmer way kind of made more sense.

"And make no mistake, assassin," Varro continued. "Legal or not, this was an insult! To kill a friend of the Empire on Pelinal's Day, on Imperial grounds—"

The woman held up the scroll. "The Morag Tong apologizes if there has been any inconvenience," she said. "We are happy to cooperate with law enforcement officials, and any complaints about operative performance or discretion should be directed to the grandmaster through proper channels."

"It's true. She didn't break any law," Maiko said.

"Maybe not. But it's not customary. Usually, you people wait until your target is in one of your cities. Maiko, arrest her and keep her in a cell. She'll be free to go when the guests leave. I will be filing a complaint."

"Wait!" Quinn said, holding out her hand. She was a little surprised she'd actually said it, but she needed to know more. "Can I ask her a few more questions?"

Varro rolled his eyes and then made a hurry-up gesture.

Looking at the assassin, she asked, "Why did you kill Turimar?"

"A public writ of execution was commissioned for his death, and I was selected to perform the service."

"I see. Who wanted him dead?"

Other than me, she thought.

"The Morag Tong respects the privacy of its clients and will not reveal their identities. Operatives are not told the names or affiliations of their clients."

"I guess that makes sense. Can anyone hire you guys to kill someone they don't like?" Was that how it worked in Morrowind? How close had she come to getting killed? Everyone was jealous of popular people.

"No. The Morag Tong is honored to work closely with the Empire, the Tribunal Temple, and the great houses of Morrowind. We have an extensive vetting process for clients. Similarly, we are also judicious in the targets we choose, who are always high-ranking members of a great house."

Quinn realized she was shaking and that she'd totally forgotten to clean up after her crying jag outside. Too bad she didn't have a mask like the assassin.

"So I don't have to worry about getting killed by you guys? And my family doesn't either?"

"Morag Tong policy is to avoid targeting those who are not members of a great house. However, should an individual unaffiliated with a great house defend a target during the commission of an assignment, we cannot guarantee that the operative will not use lethal force against said individual."

"I guess I understand."

"Should you have any further questions, feel free to visit the Morag Tong office in Balmora. The office is open from sunrise to sundown, Morndas through Loredas. One of our representatives will be happy to meet with you."

"You guys have a public office? And anyone can walk in?" Somehow, of all the weird things she'd come across that night, that one felt the weirdest.

"The Morag Tong seeks to be an active and constructive part of the communities in which it works."

"Did you memorize a script for this sort of thing?"

That time, the assassin responded in a much lower voice. "Trust me, kid, the script makes things way easier."

"Enough," Varro. "Maiko, take her away."

Maiko stepped up to the assassin. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to put you in a cell. We will release you in the morning."

She didn't say anything as Maiko and the other soldier marched her down the staircase. Now it was just Varro.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, citizen. As Maiko said, you must not tell anyone what you saw here for the next few days. We'll be releasing the news to the Dunmer of Great House Hlaalu first. This concerns them more than it does us. The rest will be informed later, at which point you're free to tell anyone if you're so inclined."

"Sure, I'll stay quiet until then." And she would. Quinn was too tired to do or think of much.

"Very good. You're in the Empire's service now, Citizen Morgendorffer," he said, giving a salute.

She returned it and then walked back to the main hall, her head spinning. Everyone there was still partying. Musicians played, people danced. She saw Mom and Dad stumbling through another gavotte with Jolda's mom and dad.

Somehow, it all seemed silly.

"Muthsera Morgendorffer!"

Satheri ran up to her, all out of breath. "I've been looking all over for you! Are you okay? You aren't mad at me, are you? You left so quickly, I wasn't sure. Oh gosh, I'm so sorry if I offended you—"

"It's fine, Satheri. Really." She was too tired to argue.

"That's a relief. Did you talk to Turimar? I'm sure he's sorry that he made you mad. But it's okay if you don't want to."

Quinn didn't say anything. All she could think of was the blood pooling out under his body and the way his mouth was stuck in an open position, the tops of his teeth peeking out from behind his cold lips.

"You know what? Let's just forget about boys tonight," Quinn said.

"That's a great idea! Come on, my mom wants to know where you got your dress!"

Quinn let Satheri take her by the arm and drag her to the Dunmer table, where Turimar had been sitting not that long ago.

Musical Closer - Let Me See, by Morcheeba

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 03:56 AM