Outlanders (Morrowind Crossover) Options

[SubRosa]

Looks like I guessed right. It was the Morag Thong.

I don't blame Quinn for her confusion. it is so hard to keep those thongs straight.

"So these guys go out of their way to kill the rich and popular people?"
That's not how its supposed to be!!!

Quinn gets a crash course in Morrowind assassination etiquette. If she is disappointed, I am sure the Dark Brotherhood would be willing to kill people for her that are not members of the great houses. Is there even a DB questline in Morrowind? I don't remember.

I did like the acknowledgement by the assassin that there was a script they have to give the pitch to outlanders like Quinn. It makes a lot of sense that they would have something like that.

[Acadian]

Like Quinn, I was pleased to see Turimar dead and Quinn not on the hook for it.

I do agree with her that the Morag Tong is certainly an odd concept. Guild of legal assassins? No problem. Fashion guild? Oh, that’ll take years of bureaucratic red tape to approve. Having learned what little I know about the Morag Tong from ESO, I found Maiko’s explanation very informative.

I chuckled as Quinn pondered the whole idea of the risks involved in being popular and ‘important’ in Morrowind.

Whether intentional on Satheri’s part or not, she probably could not have suggested a more appropriate post-shock therapy for Quinn than having her talk about her dress.

[Renee]

Part of Quinn is glad the guy has been killed! That's something a lot of us say at one time or another -- "I wish he were dead". Part of Quinn actually is okay with this! She's a bit cold, eh? She also has no problem sticking around while the officials start to dig into their work. Quinn's a bit like my daughter, actually!

"We definitely don't want to spoil Pelinal's Day for anyone."-- Oh, I think we're way beyond spoiling!

Morag Tong kills can be really difficult in the base game. Especially without mods, all the NPCs stand around like statues, and I notice a lot of MT targets happen to be placed into areas which are indoors, and usually populated. So it doesn't surprise me Turimar got gotten at the height of the celebration. Well, it sounds like Turimar had gotten separated from the others, but still...

... I wonder where all of this is leading! Quinn seems awfully interested in the Tong. :

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

I think we have a discrephancy with the Fandom term here. Here is an example of what I am talking about --> The Fallout Fandom website, which I rely on quite a lot. -- Wait for it (if you go there). Pop pop pop pop go the ads! The Space Battles & Daria Wiki sites are not the same.

I think you are using the term "fandom" as more a catchall phrase, I thought you meant the actual Fandom site (which has a bunch of games associated with it, not just Fallout).

Alles klar der Komissar?

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 6

The news broke a few days later, just like Maiko had said. Mom and Dad made a big deal about it, scared that Quinn would be traumatized or something. She didn't tell them about what she'd heard Turimar say. Thinking about that still hurt.

"It's fine, Mom. I mean, it's sad; I get it, but it wasn't like I'd known him for long. I'm okay."

And she did feel okay, except she kind of wished she didn't. Turimar was a bad guy, for sure, but weren't you supposed to think nice things about the dead? But there wasn't anything nice to say about him. Plus, if he were still alive, would he really try to keep Mom and Dad from getting clients? Maybe he'd only said that to scare her. But he had a lot of money and power. He could've done that if he'd wanted to. If it were a choice between him being alive and Mom and Dad having jobs...

She didn't know what to think.

Quinn didn't have any lectures at the academy that Morndas, so she stayed home and helped Mom at the office. She finished her work and went to her room to be by herself a while, which usually wasn't something she ever wanted to be. Maybe that's how Daria got started. She was looking out the window toward the end of the day, the sky all hot and red over Balmora, when Daria came home, her booted feet thudding on the floor.

"Hey, Daria," Quinn said, still looking outside.

"Uh, hi."

The room got quiet. Quinn wanted to say something but wasn't sure how. There was so much stuff in her head!

"Sorry again about your dancing partner," Daria said.

"I'm not. You were right about him. He was a bad guy."

"Quinn, did he hurt you?" Daria actually sounded mad all of a sudden.

Quinn moved away from the window and looked at her sister, her clothes as drab as always. "No. Well, he hurt my feelings."

She explained what happened, all the nasty things he'd said, what he'd threatened to do, and how Satheri had made excuses for him.

Daria sighed. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Quinn."

"You aren't going to gloat and say, 'I told you so'?"

"I have some tact." Daria sat down on her bed.

"That's not all that happened. You know how he was murdered?"

"Uh huh."

"I saw the body. And I saw the creepy lady who did it! The Morag Tong or whatever," Quinn said.

"Wait, Quinn, why didn't you tell Mom and Dad?"

"Because Maiko said it'd cause a panic if I told everyone! I promised him I'd keep quiet. But it felt weird. I keep thinking about how broken Turimar looked when he was dead. And I feel bad, sort of. But I'm kind of glad, too."

"Considering he was threatening to put us in the poorhouse, I'll be glad for the both of us. The thing is, Quinn, powerful people usually aren't good people."

"But aren't they supposed to be? Like, that's why they're powerful. The gods help good people so that they can help the rest of us. Like the emperor. He's good, right?"

"I think he's a man with a very hard job. Look at it this way: was Turimar powerful?"

Quinn nodded. "Yeah."

"Was he good?"

"No. I don't think so. Satheri does."

"Why is that?"

Quinn hesitated. "I think it's because she wants to see the good in everyone?" Which was sort of true. But then she thought of something else. "Or because they were both Hlaalu."

"You got it right the second time."

"So Great House Hlaalu is bad, then. But now what do I do? Try to marry into some other great house? Hlaalu's the only one where the guys might marry outlander girls like us. I guess I can move back to Cyrodiil and find a human noble there."

"It's not only the Hlaalu." Daria leaned forward, her eyes getting kind of intense. "Think about Pelinal."

"The guy whose day it was?" Quinn didn't get how he fit into this.

"What did the priestess say about him?"

"I wasn't paying attention, but I know he fought a lot of Mer. Bad Mer."

"He fought the Ayleids," Daria said. "What kinds of Ayleids do you think he killed?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. I'm not some kind of history geek! Like warriors or something."

"So when he stormed their cities and burned them to the ground, do you think he only killed warriors?"

"Uh, I guess?" But Quinn didn't believe it. A city was full of people. Women, kids, old people. "No. He must've killed girls like us, too."

"The popular histories leave that bit out, but the older ones tell the whole story. Pelinal was a vicious fanatic. One time he slaughtered a whole tribe of Khajiit simply because he associated them with Mer."

Quinn shook her head. "But that can't be! Why would we celebrate someone like that?"

"Because he did help our ancestors overthrow the Ayleids. Who did do horrible things to us. Also, because people like having a hero. Almost every human in that room thought Pelinal was a great guy, just like Satheri thought Turimar was one."

"Daria, I'm not as smart as you! What are you trying to say?"

"Just that you can't always trust what people tell you."

"Then who do I trust?"

"Your own sense," Daria said. "You saw that Turimar was a bad guy. You don't have to pretend he was good."

"So we shouldn't have any heroes?"

Daria looked unsure for a moment. "I guess pick them carefully. Personally, I'm used to disappointment, so I try not to think much of anyone. That way, I don't feel too bad when they turn out to be crummy. But if you see someone who tries to help, who's fair-minded and doesn't abuse their power, then it's probably okay to consider them provisionally good until you get sufficient evidence to the contrary."

Quinn giggled. "That's kind of a lot, Daria. I don't think I'm ever going to be that cynical. But I get what you mean. Everyone wants to believe that there are great people out there looking out for them. I know that makes me feel good. Maybe some of those great people really are great! But you can't take it for granted."

Daria smiled. "I think you're a quick learner."

"Only when it comes to important things." Quinn stood up. She realized she'd been inside all day! "You know, I might drop by Satheri's house, just to say hi."

"Hmm. Do you think you can trust her?"

"I'm kind of mad at what she said. But I think she'd have taken my side if she'd heard Turimar. She just wasn't ready to believe he was bad."

Daria took off her glasses, squinting as she examined the dusty lenses. "Personally, I wouldn't give her a second chance. But she's your friend, not mine. So not my call to make."

"Right. Thanks, sister."

"Don't get all mushy on me," Daria said, putting her glasses back on and grabbing the nearest book.

Quinn laughed as she put on her shoes and walked downstairs, ready to actually have some fun.

Musical Closer - Charm Attack, by Leona Naess

The End

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 03:58 AM

[Renee]

I agree with Quinn. There's nothing nice to say or think about somebody who plays that kind of trick on a girl. Boom, There it is.

But also wow, think about that as the very last thing the guy did. I mean, the very last moments of Turimar's life, he's playing a trick on somebody who's fawning over him. And then he high-fives with his buds as she gets upset. What a moment for him to fall! Nothing epic, or noble, no trying to save somebody's life, none of that. He played a trick on somebody he just met, and also threatened her family! And this just happens to be the moment when a writ for his life gets carried out.

"Daria, I'm not as smart as you! What are you trying to say?"

That's so classic! - The princess sister must rely on the smart sister on occasion, for help. So true, so true.

These last couple episodes aren't so humorous, which is OK actually. Sometimes Outlanders can get so funny, I worry I'm about to break a rib or something!

This post has been edited by Renee: Jul 27 2022, 06:15 PM

[Acadian]

A very well-done, deep conversation between the sisters.

The first part was a nice contrast between Quinn’s naivete and Daria’s deep knowledge of history. It was nice to see Daria being sympathetic and showing, in her own way, she really does care for her princess sister.

The second part of the conversation then provided nice balance by contrasting Quinn’s optimism with Daria’s darker view of mer/human nature. I chuckled when Daria said she would not give Satheri a second chance; I remembered how Jane did indeed give Daria a second chance after her intemperate remarks about the Three.

[SubRosa]

It was good of you to show the turmoil within Quinn. On one hand you have the empathy that most people feel for someone who has died. OTOH, you have the schadenfreude of seeing an asshat get their comeuppance. On the third hand there is just the pragmatism of understanding that this might have been a literal threat to Quinn and her family. It is a confusing mess. It really makes you think...

Oh no! Quinn fell for the prosperity gospel of power. People have power because they are good. Not because they exploited a huge amount of other people to amass and maintain that power.

And a nice talk with Daria, who rather than swooped in for the kill, displayed that fact that yes, she does possess an empathetic nature beneath all the armor of cynicism that she has built up over the years to protect herself.

[WellTemperedClavier]

Episode 9: The History Girls

Note: Special thanks to Atiyatortilla, mod and member of the Lawndale-high Message Board for the valuable feedback she provided!

Chapter 1

At least Sera Dimartani wasn't boring.

Daria watched as the rangy Dunmer marched from one end of the dusty classroom to the other, his cadaverous features twisting in rage as he described a choice sampling of the atrocities and wars that comprised Tamrielic history. The material wasn't new to her; she'd studied plenty on her own, her mind absorbing the Empire's complex political and economic realities while also watching for gruesome facts with which she could torment Quinn.

Nonetheless, the threat of explosive rage—or possibly apoplexy—on Dimartani's part added a certain lingering tension to each lecture.

"Who here can tell me why the EMPIRE, fresh from its victories in the west, chose to annex Morrowind through TREATY rather than conquest?"

Dimartani's skull-like visage swiveled to face the seated students, his left eye bulging in its socket. Only silence for a few long moments until Briltasi raised her skinny arm.

"YES?"

"Uh," she said, twirling one of her platinum ponytails around a finger, "was it because the Empire really liked us and didn't want to fight?"

"Your NAIVETE continues to impress! Anyone ELSE?"

Daria hesitated. The longer it took to get a response, the more likely Dimartani would flip out in an entertaining way. On the other hand, the murky politics behind the Armistice had always interested her. But Jolda beat Daria to the punch and raised her hand.

"Jolda!"

"Though the Empire would have eventually won a military conflict against Morrowind, victory would have been costly in both finances and personnel. Thus, Emperor Tiber Septim invited the Tribunal to sign the Armistice late in the Second Era, allowing Morrowind more autonomy than most provinces while also peacefully spreading the Empire's values of free trade and the rule of law."

"Very good, albeit SLIGHTLY one-sided!" Dimartani bellowed. "The nature of the HLAALU-approved curriculum prevents me from giving my own thoughts on the matter. Suffice to say, Jolda's DESCRIPTION is accurate. Well-done!"

Jolda had navigated it well. She'd made it clear the Empire had been in charge, while also throwing a bone to the Dunmer by giving some credit to the Tribunal. It fit the standard Imperial-Hlaalu narrative.

Of course, Jolda hadn't mentioned the uglier details, like the Imperial monopolists profiting by outsourcing to Morrowind's slave labor.

"Few of you know that next Middas marks the FOUR-HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY-FIFTH anniversary of the Armistice! In honor of this auspicious, or perhaps DOLOROUS, day, I am assigning an essay in which you will share YOUR thoughts on the Armistice and how it affects YOU! Assuming, of course, that you have the mental CAPACITY to understand how history affects the present! This will be due TOMORROW!"

Briltasi raised her hand again.

"Yes, Serjo TALORI?"

Briltasi lowered her hand. "Uh, if the Armistice thing is next Middas, then shouldn't the essay also be due next Middas?"

"An ASTUTE observation, Serjo Talori! The reason for the date is because the writer of the best essay will get to RECITE it for our honored director at the Armistice FESTIVAL next week!"

Daria noted that she now had a good reason to write a subpar essay. The last thing she wanted was to help Director Lli in any way, shape, or form.

"Are they going to do anything cool for this festival?" Julien asked from the back row. "The last one was lame."

Dimartani growled. "They'll do the same thing they ALWAYS do: display propaganda for the Empire and Great House HLAALU in hopes of getting more funding!" He spoke the name of the great house with particular scorn, which struck Daria as odd—wasn't he subject to them?

The lunch break arrived, Drenlyn's courtyard bright and sizzling under the summer sun. Daria roasted in her worn orange shirt and long black skirt. The shade of her bug-shell hat offered only scarce relief as a bead of sweat rolled down one cheek. How did someplace so far north get so damn hot? she wondered. She lifted her hand to keep the glare out of her eyes and walked with Jane to the library, where they pressed themselves against the west wall to get whatever shade they could find.

"Lli always makes a big deal about the Armistice Festival," Jane said. "Her hope's that some Imperial or Hlaalu bigwig will see it and be so impressed that they invite her to a high-level networking party. You know, the kind with real nobles."

"Since it sounds like she's done this several times already, I'm guessing she hasn't had much luck."

Jane laughed. "One time some bureaucrat from Ebonheart came by. Stood up halfway through, looking really confused, and asked if it was the Marcolo wedding. He got out of there pretty quick once he found out it wasn't."

"Nothing warms my heart quite like Lli being disappointed. Speaking of which, I'm going to have to stretch my writing muscles tonight."

Jane arched an eyebrow. "Why, Morgendorffer! I never figured you'd be one to try and impress the authorities."

"On the contrary," Daria said. "I need to write at a level bad enough to ensure I won't be picked to give a speech for Lli. Do you have any idea how many good writing habits I'm going to have to break?"

"Hmm, that might be tough. Here's an idea! Hang out with Briltasi for a while. You'll be writing at her level before you know it!"

"I'm not willing to suffer quite that much for my art."

Jane shook her head. "Amateur."

*********

The walls of the Morgendorffer home offered some sanctuary from the sweltering afternoon. Sweat cooling on her brow, Daria walked to the kitchen and made a quick meal of bread and scuttle before trudging up the narrow stairs to her room. Daria usually napped when she came home from school, at least on the days when Mom didn't dragoon her into office work. But that day she itched to get started and knew it'd be best to do it while Quinn was still out visiting with friends.

Once in her room, she opened the window and looked out onto the rows of blocky Balmora homes shimmering in the summer heat. Warm air wafted inside as she put a paper on the surface of her desk, sat down, and gathered her thoughts.

Of all the students in Dimartani's class, only Jolda and Karl could rival her in writing ability. The rest offered little more than ink dribbles. So how best to imitate that? She pictured Briltasi:

"The Armistice is like, super-important to me because I like getting fancy perfumes from the Imperial City! And my daddy's rich, so I can get lots of them!"

Daria shook her head. No way was she going to stoop that low. A losing entry was one thing; having her writing confused with Briltasi's quite another.

Perhaps dullness made for a better tack than stupidity. She leaned back in the chair and looked up at the wooden beams in the ceiling. They wanted the winning essay to be propaganda, right? The one thing propaganda could never afford to be was genuinely informative. She turned the idea over in her mind. What if she wrote a dry-as-bone account of the Armistice? In that case, it'd be best to focus on the economic factors. No one liked reading about those (except her, from time to time). She pictured the opening paragraph.

The Armistice that brought Morrowind into the Empire's fold was a practical measure necessitated by Emperor Tiber Septim's need to maintain and cultivate a reliable tax base among the entrepots of the eastern Heartlands...

Daria smiled. It was dry and made no concessions to the reader's interest or comfort. She stood up to collect a few books for research purposes, eager to be as exacting as possible.

For the next few hours, she read, referenced, and wrote. No detail escaped her pen. After all, who wouldn't want to know the price of a pound of saltrice in late 2nd Era Cyrodiil? She became like a machine that sorted facts on the basis of how boring they were (even if she did have to admit a certain grudging interest in how grubby the Armistice was when put under scrutiny, all the gods and emperors merely a silkscreen behind which middle managers made history).

The setting sun had painted her room a lurid red by the time Daria finished a few pages. She sighed, picked up the first sheaf, and held it up to the light. Her text, detail-oriented and without an ounce of conviction or opinion, was sure to be ignored. It'd earn the obscurity she craved, but she somehow didn't want to turn it in. The essay made her feel more like a copyist than a writer, its information regurgitated and artlessly thrown together. She'd always thought of herself as better than that.

She frowned. Why did she have to do this? Lli just wanted to find student propagandists to boost her own iffy social standing. The whole situation was pretty ridiculous.

As ridiculous as the Empire being in Morrowind in the first place.

Sudden giddiness welled up through her exhaustion. Why not tell them what she truly thought? That greed, more than anything else, had driven the Empire's annexation of Morrowind.

Daria slammed a new paper on the desk and grabbed her quill. Words jumped from brain to page, her hand hurrying to keep up so that the neat letters all but ran into each other.

Like so much else, the Empire's rule over Morrowind is built on the lie of Imperial beneficence. What Morrowind's conquerors called law turned out to be criminality. What they called order only covered for corruption. And don't worry, various Dunmer great houses, both pro- and anti-Empire, I'm coming after you as well, she wrote.

Shadows stretched as sunset turned to night, and Daria paused only to light an already half-spent candle. Quinn came in and spouted a few trivialities before sitting next to Daria with a pile of socks, her small hands deftly guiding needle and thread to patch the threadbare parts. They ignored each other, Daria hearing only the scratch of pen against paper.

The candle had dwindled to a nub by the time she finished, the night air still thick and warm on her skin. Four pages of anger rested on the desk before her; all her frustration poured out and ready to be justified by rejection. They wouldn't accept something that scared them.

A sudden and stabbing pain jabbed from her eyes to her forehead. Darkness, the distortion of her lenses, and hours of writing had all taken their toll at once. She closed her eyes and massaged them. The pain stayed when she stopped and opened them again. Daria heard steady breathing and looked over to Quinn's bed. Her sister slumbered, looking perfect in repose.

Going back over what she wrote, she realized she couldn't turn it in. The Empire tolerated and even encouraged veiled criticism. Hers was far too explicit. She'd gotten so carried away in the flow of words that she'd lost sight of the fact that too much scorn toward the powers that be would only bring trouble to her family. Probably not legal trouble. But she couldn't be absolutely sure.

The core still worked. She only needed to change the tone. Official histories told the broad truth; they simply did it obliquely. She knew how to follow suit. Take away anything that directly blamed the Empire, throw in a few laudatory comments about the Septim Dynasty and Great House Hlaalu, and insert the truth in between. Not wanting to start another candle, Daria took the stub and crept downstairs with her essay and a few fresh papers in hand. Sure enough, Mom was still working in her office.

"Oh, hello, Daria! Late night?" Mom raised her tired gaze from a pile of casework on her desk.

"For both of us, apparently. I've got this essay I'm supposed to write for Dimartani. I have a rough draft here," she said, holding up the finished work, "but I want to spruce it up a bit."

Mom brightened. "Well, you're more than welcome to my candlelight! I'm still slogging through that Ralaalo case—I don't know why it's so hard for some of these Hlaalu types to understand Imperial patent law!"

"I suppose patent law is part of our civilizing mission?"

"I'm not sure I'd call our mission all that civilizing. What's your essay about?"

Daria sat down at the edge of the desk, curling her arm around the papers to block her mother's view. "Oh, just a little bit on the Armistice."

"I'd be happy to take a look."

"That's okay, Mom. I got this."

"Oh, I'm sure. Not many people your age know as much about Tamrielic history as you do. It's a talent, Daria. Nurture it."

A little embarrassed, Daria nodded and got to work on the final draft.

Like so much else, the Empire's rule in Morrowind is built on the canny pragmatism that has influenced so much of its expansion. Put simply, Morrowind had resources that Emperor Tiber Septim needed to guarantee the Empire's security. As for the Dunmer, trade was simply more profitable (not to mention safer) than fighting back, she began.

A decent enough start for something destined for the rejection pile.

She hoped.

Musical Closer - Seether, by Veruca Salt

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 04:00 AM

[SubRosa]

I loved Mr. DiMartino! He always looks like that one eye is going to pop out any second, and he is going to keel over from a massive heart attack and/or stroke.

I always loved his very unique way of speaking, which involved adding heavy emphasis on certain words for no apparent reason what so ever. Which I see you inCORporated into the TEXT!

I see Principal Li is the same as ever. Yay for shameless self-promotion at the expense of the student body!

I loved Daria's scathing view of the armistice being the triumph of middle-management over the hum-drum parade of the usual gods and emperors!

Uh uh, she's going to go all Lisa Simpson and put down what she really thinks on paper! Cesspool on the Potomac!

[Acadian]

Not being familiar with the TV show, I appreciate your links on new characters as you introduce them. The link for Dimartani made him particularly easy and enjoyable to envision.

So, Daria's mission is to write an essay that is predestined to not be selected the winner.

"Hmm, that might be tough. Here's an idea! Hang out with Briltasi for a while. You'll be writing at her level before you know it!"
- - A hilarious approach but so very not Daria that no one would believe she wrote it.

Go with a boring, overly studious approach? Not a bad path, for it would cause no harm to her reputation or that of her family.

Actually write what she thinks? Maybe not the best approach due to the possible repercussions that Daria herself recognizes.

Incorporate her thoughts but woven amongst enough Imperial and Hlaalu platitudes as to avoid the negative repercussions of her ‘real truth’ version. Hmm, could be a fine essay – which is exactly the problem. I have a feeling that if this is the path she takes, her essay may be chosen as the winner.

Honestly, Daria, I’d go with the ‘do no harm’ approach and submit the overly studious one.

[RaderOfTheLostArk]

Trying to get my bearings on the story. I recognize the art-style of the characters like in your avatar but I'm not familiar with the TV show. I'm rarely a fan of crossovers, but that's a creative choice of media you took to make the crossover with. And it's neat to get the perspective of "regular" people in this story.

I also appreciate the shout-out to TESA: Redguard that you made in your first post of this story. Morrowind gets the credit for starting the "modern" direction of TES lore, but that credit belongs to Redguard. One could even argue that it started with Battlespire. But I digress.

Anyway, obviously I haven't read the whole story, but in your second-to-latest post (Chapter 8, Episode 6), something that personally resonated with me was the talk about heroes, particularly Pelinal. I won't drone on too much, but over the years in real life, I've learned to not put anybody on some sort of hero pedestal, but there are people who I greatly respect. And lot of people in history and today are more complicated than simply "hero" or "villain", and sometimes the people we most revere are responsible for some horrific actions. I'm particularly wary of cults of personality, which I think are rampant in today's society. (The song "Cult of Personality" by Living Colour is as relevant as ever.) But again, I digress.

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 2

Daria reached Drenlyn in a state of exhaustion. The rush from all the writing had left her spent, and the morning heat sapped her vigor at every step. Her mind still taut with expectation, she walked with Jane toward Dimartani's class.

"For someone trying to write a losing essay, you sure went all out," Jane said. "Five pages? That's practically a manifesto!"

"I figured if I'm going to try and fail, I might as well do it in style."

"You should do what I did. Three paragraphs that each more or less say the Empire is great. It's the same one I used last year."

"Normally, I'd say that's a shoo-in for failure, but considering the competition, you might be near the top of the class."

"I don't think I have to worry about winning with that monstrosity in the running," Jane said, pointing to Daria's essay.

"Trust me. The content guarantees it'll be thrown out."

Part of her wished that she'd turned in her more incendiary early draft, which she'd consigned to an incendiary end that morning, using it as fuel for the stove at breakfast. This one at least stayed in the bounds of acceptable criticism. She didn't deny the Empire's rapaciousness. She only described it with neutral words that gave the casual reader enough room to justify such actions as pragmatism.

Somehow, turning it in still felt a bit like defeat.

Her anxiety faded over the next few days, burned away by the scorching summer and the daily frustrations of life in Balmora. Nothing would happen because nothing ever did. Corrupt, sprawling, and elephantine, the Empire would abide.

Students slouched their way to school on a Fredas morning when the blazing sun seemed to leech the very color out of the city. At least all that adobe insulated the classroom interiors. Dimartani began speaking as soon as the students sat down.

"Your essays were, for the most part, as ignorant and TRIVIAL as I'd expected, though I supposed they at least demonstrated basic LITERACY! There were, however, a HANDFUL of entries that demonstrated real knowledge."

His distended left eye bulged as it scanned the classroom, focusing on Jolda, Karl, and then on Daria. She tensed up a bit. The writing quality of her essay might've made it stand out, but no way would Dimartani let such a critical piece win.

Unless she'd veiled her criticisms a bit too heavily.

"As such, it is my honor to present to you the WINNER, and the person who will be READING this essay next week."

He breathed in. "DARIA MORGENDORFFER!"

Daria blinked.

"Told you a five-page essay is overdoing it," Jane whispered. "You need some slacking lessons. Want Trent to teach you?"

*********

Daria waited until after class ended to speak with Dimartani. She tried to mentally rehearse her protests but kept faltering. The only way to argue against him was to know why he'd accepted the essay in the first place.

Dimartani stood at the head of the room as the students filtered out into the torrid mid-afternoon light.

"Sera Dimartani," Daria said.

"Ah! Your essay was a FASCINATING piece of writing. I admired your honesty and dedication to the facts, unenCUMBERED by flimsy propaganda!"

Interesting. She'd underestimated him. "Thank you. May I ask why you chose my essay to be the winning entry? I think you know as well as I do that there's no way Director Lli would let me read something like that. She wants propaganda, the way you said."

He made a noise that might have been a laugh. "Our honorable director is far too BUSY to actually look at these essays. She THINKS that you're all good little drones. I'm PLEASED to see that she's wrong."

Daria crossed her arms. "Look. I meant everything I wrote in that essay. But what do you think's going to happen to me if I read that out loud? Lli's corrupt, but she isn't stupid. My essay doesn't condemn the Empire, but it's not exactly the feel-good, rah-rah-rah piece she's expecting. From where I see it, you're potentially getting me in trouble just to make a point."

"Some would argue that the point NEEDS to be made!"

"You know, the reason I wrote that essay was to avoid being picked. I figured that revealing some of the ugly truths behind the Armistice would make it way too controversial to win."

"Daria, I was GENUINELY impressed. No one else in Balmora cares about the truth. I'm sick of rewarding BOOTLICKERS with more opportunities for self-promotion! Sycophants are KILLING Morrowind, Daria! And I DOUBT they're any better for the Empire!"

"That sounds like a personal problem." Daria sighed. "I don't want any part of this fight, but I'm guessing you can't—or won't—pick someone else."

He scowled, the dark veins veins in his left eye seeming to bulge out from the red membrane. "You ought to show a little more RESPECT! I am still your teacher and I have given YOU, an OUTLANDER, the opportunity to make a difference!"

Daria wanted to keep staring, as if the sheer force of her annoyance would burn a hole through his skull. But she knew how much Morrowind loved its authority figures and lowered her head. "I apologize," she said, in the most neutral tone possible, before lifting her head back up to meet his gaze. "But you did put me in a spot."

Suddenly a bit shamefaced, Dimartani tugged at his collar. "Lli has NOT read your essay, nor will she care to. If you WANT to dilute the strength of your message, there's NOTHING either of us can do to stop you."

"Has anyone else read it?"

He nodded. "I gave it to Jolda a few minutes ago. She's the head of the festival planning committee, and you'll be working with HER on whatever speech you finally give."

Daria was aghast. "You handed it over to her?"

"NATURALLY! An assignment CEASES to be yours when you turn it in!"

She had to fix this. "Of course. May I be excused?" She tried to make it sound more like a statement than a question because, one way or another, she was leaving.

He waved her off, and she hurried out into the sun-blasted courtyard, searching desperately for Jolda.

Musical Closer - Cul de Sac, by Komeda



This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 04:01 AM

[Acadian]

You really make us feel the pervasive heat in Balmora and it contributes to the whole mood here.

Uh oh, I was afraid of this. Daria has, as you said, outsmarted herself.

I quite like Jane’s approach – three paragraphs basically saying the empire is great. And offering Daria slacking lessons from Trent. I can imagine Trent's first lesson, “Look at it this way. If the minimum wasn’t good enough, it wouldn’t be the minimum.”

Dimartani isn’t wrong and his insight seems sound. . . but using Daria to make his point is problematic.

It’ll be interesting to see how this develops and unfolds.

[SubRosa]

Uh oh, Daria is ditching the obviously muckracking version, and instead substituting the more palatable one. She is sure to win now! It is going to be everything they want to hear much to Daria's shock and dismay. It is like the internet rule that no matter how blatantly satirical you write something to mock bigots, somebody will take it as literal and use it as hate-speech to support that bigotry.

As ever, I loved how you reproduced Mr. Dimartino's way of randomly overemphasizing certain words at random.

Oh boy, off to find Jolda before its too late!

[Renee]

I can write & listen to music just fine, or sometimes there will be something on TV. I wrote portions of one of Laprima's chapters while watching Level 16, a movie on Netflix which was about a bunch of girls locked in some compound. In that case, the movie actually inspired a bit of that particular chapter. Yeah, that was the one in which her Aunt Elisif crowds my character, trying to persuade her to get a job in Solitude immediately.

However, if I'm editing, it's best I just focus without any extra stimuli. 🧐 Glasses on, using my laptop instead of my room desktop, spellchecker running...

/ot

Daria has one of THOSE teachers. I think we've all had THAT teacher at some point, the one who gets way into their lessons and begins SHOUTING or pontificating in some way.
I always loved the hippie teacher on Beavis & Butthead btw, the one who always finishes his sentences with "mm kay?"

How did someplace so far north get so damn hot?

It's partially the volcano, messing up Vvardenfell's climate, but partially some other factor. Because Vvardenfell and Skyrim are at the same latitude. Before the volcano erupted, the place would've still been warm, I think. Maybe not as warm though.

Daria trying to think dumbly, but then opts to be as boring as possible. It makes me worried a little. Is she going to get in some sort of trouble? -- Yep, exactly what I was thinking. She went from too boring to too critical.

A decent enough start for something destined for the rejection pile.

Ha ha, perfect! But Jane does it even better--she merely uses the same essay from last year!

... oh no, Daria won! 🙅 Well, look at the bright side. Maybe she won't need to worry as much about networking.

This post has been edited by Renee: Aug 5 2022, 06:40 PM

[WellTemperedClavier]

Chapter 3

Jane said that she'd seen Jolda heading off to Lli's office, so Daria cut toward the squat building where the director held court. Remembering procedure, she knocked on the rough wooden door and waited as the sun beat down on her hair. It soon swung inward to reveal a smiling Jolda, dressed in a flowing magenta dress that looked much more Hammerfell than Morrowind.

"Hi, Daria! I was just telling Muthsera Lli how impressed Sera Dimartani and I were with your essay."

She studied Jolda's face for any sign of sarcasm. Jolda was smart. She'd have figured out what Daria was saying. But she seemed genuine.

Director Lli sat behind an Imperial-style desk of imported pine, garbed in blue robes decorated with angular Daedric letters spelling out the names of House Hlaalu's favorite saints. A sweating Sera Benniet stood next to Lli, fanning her with an enormous corkbulb leaf. Lli looked at Daria, who lowered her head as a show of respect. Such a gesture was the closest most Hlaalu Dunmer ever got to a bow, and only used when they wanted to wheedle something out of someone. "Muthsera," Daria said.

She hated giving that honorific to Lli. But Jolda already had, so if Daria didn't, Lli would take serious offense.

"Good of you to join us, Miss Morgendorffer. I was about to have you summoned. Jolda seems very impressed with your work." Lli tented her fingers, her face impassive.

"Uh, thank you. However, I'd rather not read my essay at the Armistice Festival."

Lli's eyes narrowed. "What? Young lady, I've bestowed upon you a rare honor. This will be a chance for notable administrators and captains of industry to hear your voice raised in praise for the Empire, for Great House Hlaalu, and for the honor, and glory, of Drenlyn Academy. Who knows! There might be a handsome young Hlaalu noble in the audience who takes a liking to you!" Lli laughed at her own comment and followed it with a loud snort.

"Regrettably," Daria said, "I've already been betrothed to a dashing young Daedric Prince from one of the more reputable Planes of Oblivion."

Lli frowned. "Sarcasm won't get you anywhere, Miss Morgendorffer. Besides, you're exactly the kind of person I need: an educated Imperial girl from a respectable but non-noble family. It'll be a great way to show how open a place Drenlyn is for outlanders. Might even get some of those cheapskates to send a real donation for once!" She scowled before returning to her usual guarded expression.

"Wait," Daria said. "I thought I was picked because of my—"

Lli held up her hand. "Not now; I'm a very busy woman! Jolda's the head of the festival planning committee. She'll help you fine-tune your speech to make sure it's optimal for potential donors. Jolda?"

"Yes, muthsera?"

"Keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't try anything funny. I've heard the instructors talking about her manners."

"Of course," Jolda said.

Jolda led Daria out of the office. Daria used her hand as a visor to shelter her eyes from the blinding light; the heat already prickling her skin. She pointed her feet toward the emperor parasol in the center of the courtyard, wanting only its shade, and Jolda walked with her.

"I read your essay, Daria. I get the impression that you didn't actually want to write this."

They reached the comfort of the shadows, and Daria let her arm drop. "I had a feeling you'd figure things out. I take it Lli hasn't seen my essay?"

Jolda shook her head. "Good job on the writing, by the way. It was accurate, and you hid your hostility pretty well. A lot better than you did in Lli's office."

"On that case, since we're on the same page—"

"Hold on. Lli wants the Armistice Festival to be perfect. I'm in charge from the student end, so if anything goes wrong, it'll fall on my head. Can you promise me you'll take this seriously?" Her expression turned searching.

Daria didn't want to get Jolda in trouble. "I guess. I'll stick with my mildly controversial script."

"Uh, about that—could we maybe make it a tiny bit less controversial? You weren't wrong, but I think this sort of thing needs to examine the positives, too."

"I'm not sure we need positives. I like harsh truths a lot more than comforting lies."

"Just..." Jolda sighed. "What if we talked about this at my house tomorrow?"

"I see. And will my opinion matter?"

"Daria, I wasn't lying when I said I liked your essay. You wrote the truth. But I've got a lot on the line for this. Please give me a chance?"

Daria mumbled an affirmative.

"Thanks. I'm sure we can work out something that we'll both be satisfied with. Do you know where I live?"

"No."

"My family lives on Silk-hawker's Street, first house on the left after the market if you're heading toward the stairs. Would a little while after noon be okay? I have to spend the morning making sure that the local merchants will be there for the festival."

"I guess."

"Thanks!" Jolda made a quick, ingratiating smile. "See you tomorrow," she said and walked away.

Daria thought for a bit, weighing her options and not coming up with any good answers.

*********

"That's wonderful, Daria! I'm so proud of you!" Mom exclaimed.

It was early evening at the Morgendorffer house. Mom was serving reheated bowls of saltrice porridge from the batch made a few days prior, along with lightly roasted hackle-lo leaf courtesy of Dad.

Dad grinned. "See? You just need some confidence, kiddo. People love your writing."

"Apparently they do," Daria said.

But do I? she wondered.

"And I'm thrilled to hear you're doing this with Jolda," Mom continued. "She's a promising young lady, and her father's supposed to be very well connected. You know, Daria, if you make a good impression on him tomorrow, he might be able to open some doors for you in the Imperial administration."

"Great. That way, I can start using complex bureaucracy to take out my resentment on a hapless citizenry. After I find a bolt hole for the inevitable riot." Daria prodded her porridge with her spoon, not feeling much of an appetite.

"If you want some help with giving a speech, I can totally teach you!" Quinn offered. "Just go on stage and think about how perfect you look and how everyone wants to date you or be you. Except, wait, you don't even look close to perfect." Quinn's expression turned thoughtful, then brightened up. "I know; think about how perfect I look!"

"The key to giving a speech is to never let those bastards see you sweat!" Dad said, pounding the table. "You lose them the moment they start snickering—"

"I'm too contemptuous of my audience to be afraid of them," Daria insisted. "It's just..."

Mom and Dad didn't have a clue about the contents of her essay or how she'd tried to lose. And that didn't get into the question as to why her essay had been picked. Lli's comment nagged. Was it her writing? Or had Lli told Dimartani to pick someone from the right demographic? The same demographic that more or less ruled a continent, cosmopolitan enough to make some effort to let others in but still reserving most of the best for its own.

"It's just what?" Mom asked before lifting her clay cup and drinking from the tea within.

She decided to test Mom's opinion. "I didn't expect to win this, and I don't like the idea of my speech being used in some joint Empire-Hlaalu propaganda session."

"Oh, it's not that bad, Daria. This is only harmless boosterism. And an opportunity."

Mom and Dad didn't always act like they took the Empire that seriously. But Daria suspected they did, and that evening bore out her suspicions. After dinner, they gathered in Mom's office at her behest and took turns reading from Dad's copy of The Apotheosis of Tiber Septim, the timeworn poetic hagiography of the emperor who'd annexed Morrowind.

Watching Quinn read the passage about Tiber Septim's reclamation of the Imperial City, Daria wondered how much room she had to tell the truth.

Musical Closer - 16 Military Wives, by The Decemberists

This post has been edited by WellTemperedClavier: Nov 28 2024, 04:03 AM

[SubRosa]

I loved Daria's comeback about the dashing young daedric prince. Not to many of those from reputable planes...

Donors? Ah ha! Miss Lli reverts to type! This is all about fund-raising. I bet Daria will be so thrilled with that.

As ever Jolda is always diplomatic and understanding. I understand why. It must be very frustrating for her, to have to always be perfect in order to live up to her parent's impossible standards. At least in Morrowind she does not have to also represent the perfect, safe, non-threatening, African-American youth in an otherwise all-white school.

As ever, Daria is prepared to become a heartless dictator, escape plan and all, if the opportunity ever presents itself.

And I love how Quinn manages to make the speech about her.

[Acadian]

I’m with Daria here. I’d also rather be betrothed to a Daedric Prince than a ‘handsome young Hlaalu noble’. But her utterance to that effect did carry quite a bit of sting.

She won based her demographics, not the quality of her work?!? She should have just turned in a copy of Jane’s essay.

Jolda is either extremely smooth at manipulation or earnestly compelling in trying to recruit Daria’s support. I’m guessing the latter.

Loved Quinn’s advice on how to give a speech.

[RaderOfTheLostArk]

Lli sounds like a real s'wit. She could use a good whack from Sunder to the face.

I wonder if Drenlyn Academy nags for donations as much as higher education institutions do in the real world.

Ah, just like in real life, it isn't always so straightforward an answer as to how harsh the truth should be in a given situation. At the same time, I hope Daria isn't too snotty. I'm decidedly not a fan of people who think they're better than everybody or that they have all the answers in life.

Oh, come on, Tiber Septim was a great guy. Well, besides...a lot of things. Jokes aside, I think one of the many interesting juxtapositions of Elder Scrolls is Tiber Septim himself. On one hand, he was the first person to truly unify Tamriel into the most peaceful span of time it has ever had. On the other hand...well, where to begin with the atrocities? It's similar with many, many real-life historical figures. It's also amazing how much humans and elves hate each other even though they are both guilty of many of the things they accuse each other of...also much like how a lot of groups are in real life.

[Renee]

Hey Clavier, what is the difference between Sera and Muthsera? Is that a female/male thing?

Daria's trying to get out of giving her speech! ... And Lli isn't even bother to listen to Daria's concerns! ... But Jolda seems more compassionate. Even still, notice how Jolda is sort of congratulating Daria for writing her essay in such a passive-aggressive way (is that fair to say?) Meanwhile, Daria actually wrote three different essays. She only submitted the one because she assumed it would get her out of the contest.

"What if we talked about this at my house tomorrow?"

"I see. And will my opinion matter?"

Ha ha classic.

You know, maybe Quinn's got a point. Just go on stage and think about how perfect Quinn looks! Maybe that's the way to get through this. Because it sounds like Daria hasn't got a choice. Heck, maybe Quinn can try reading the essay instead of the more studious sister!