I would have loved to hear the Spiral at the Academy. But I cannot imagine how that would go over with the Imperial and Hlaalu parents! Jolda definitely made the prudent choice with the John Phillip Sousa cover band.

Got to love that pep talk from Miss Li!

Wow, not what I expected from Daria. That was definitely the revised, revised edition. I really appreciated how acknowledged the need to be intersectional, given how it so perfectly reflects her own experience with Jolda. I can see how that influenced this final version of the speech.

“All these important people liking me will really hurt my reputation for misanthropy.”
Now that is the Daria we all know and love!

Likewise, I didn't start listening to The Smiths until the early '90s, when it was "safe" for me to do so. See, my sister loved The Smiths in the '80s, along with Bauhaus and The Pogues, and a zillion other acts from that era. Since SHE loved this music, this meant I had to hate it (or pretend to!)

Just listened to Cemetery Gates... gosh darn it's been years since I've heard that one. Same with Light Which Never Goes out. I'm getting teary-eyed. ... I love Johnny Marr's guitar work. The way he plays is always so bouncy and upbeat, which is a total contrast to some of the horribly depressing things Morrissey sings about.

Sheila Take a Bow is about Shelagh Delaney, who was a huge inspiration for Morrissey's writing. Rumor is, Morrissey actually hated the song. I believe someone else was supposed to sing it in fact!

/ot

It's too bad Mystik Spyral didn't perform! That would've loosened the crowd up, methinks.

Whoa. Okay, wow. Her speech is really riveting, right off. It's really just honest, I guess. Yes indeed, the Empire taking Morrowind was not just for 'spreading peace'. It's about territory, and resources, and having firmer control of other provinces.

I really like her speech, WTC. It's not what I expected. It's not really as critical as I expected. It makes total sense that she (as an Imperial) gave this speech. I agree with her teacher; it wouldn't really work if Jolda had read it.

Dad is overenthusiastic, and also such a ... dad! He's like every father who ever held a camcorder during his kids' talent shows when we were kids. 🎥📸

@Acadian - Sometimes it's hard to avoid that networking ladder

@SubRosa - I figured it'd be good for Daria to start taking a more comprehensive perspective. Vvardenfell's a good opportunity for this, in a sense: it's got a lot of people from all over Tamriel, with most of them simply trying to get by as best they can.

@Renee - Yeah, I think the mix of the cheerful guitar work and the mournful lyrics are a big part of what makes The Smiths work so well. Another band I quite like that has a similar (albeit lighter) vibe is Belle and Sebastian (I use a few of their songs in this series).

Whatever country one's from, there's always the tension from wanting to see it made a better place while also realizing that its origins are likely grubbier than the official histories present. We want to believe in sweeping tides of good and evil, but grubby compromise is how things usually get done simply because there's no other way to bring enough people together to make change.

Episode 10: The Worst Years of Our Lives

Chapter 1

Daria didn't think that the Nordic couple lounging outside of the Morgendorffer home looked like the kinds of clients mom usually got. Or dad either, for that matter. Their non-ritual scars stood out, as did their weapons: a big two-handed sword in a scabbard was strapped to the man's back and the woman leaned on a long spear. Their travel-stained clothes, streaked with dirt and ash, hadn't been washed in a while.

Venturing closer but not looking directly at them, Daria got a whiff and realized they hadn't washed in a while either.

The man had iron-gray hair and a thick black mustache while the woman had tied her brown hair into a loose bun. Both had bright eyes, confident but watchful.

Daria appraised the situation. It was a crowded street, and a Hlaalu guard stood at the corner. These two wouldn't try anything in public, she was pretty sure.

"Excuse me," she said. "Are you looking for someone here?"

The man smiled and looked over to the woman. "She's a bold one, isn't she?"

"Takes after her father," she said, then turned her head to face Daria. "We're old friends of your dad, from his Fighters Guild days."

Suddenly it clicked. He'd mentioned them before on the rare occasions he talked about his wild early years, spent roaming from Skyrim to Cyrodiil with a sword in his hand and not much of anything in his pockets, sharing hardships with a few close companions.

"Fox and Willow," Daria said, looking from one to the other. She didn't know much about them specifically, other than that they'd been in the guild longer than dad.

"Smart, too! The guy I asked said Jake had a couple of daughters. You're Quinn?"

"Daria," she corrected.

"Great! We knocked on the door but no one was home, so we thought we'd wait around."

Daria hesitated. She suspected they were who they said they were. The weapons gave her a bit of pause. Weapons weren't exactly a rare sight in the Empire since the Crisis, but people didn't usually bring them into the Morgendorffer home.

On the other hand, mom and dad did make a big deal about the Imperial and Nordic rites of hospitality, respectively.

"Mom and dad are both out today, but they'll probably be back pretty soon," she said, and hoped that pretty soon meant almost immediately.

She glanced again at the guard. He stood within shouting distance. Taking the heavy iron key from her purse, Daria unlocked the door and held it open.

"As the eldest daughter of Jake and Helen Morgendorffer, it's my honor to invite you within these humble walls," she said, reciting the age-old Nordic words. Then she added: "Please keep in mind that humble is only a figure of speech, and that that we actually spent a lot of money to get quality walls so as to maintain the appearance of respectability."

“And we accept your shelter from the storm,” Willow said, as she and Fox picked up their bags and stepped inside.

"Wow! Books, papers, a desk! You sure we're talking about the same Jake Morgendorffer?" Fox asked as he surveyed the front office.

"This is actually my mom's office."

"Helen has an office?" Willow shook her head. "She was such a free spirit, always roaming hill and dale with nary a care."

"Oh, she still is a free spirit, but now she prefers to roam courtrooms and cares a lot about finding weakness in the opposing counsel's argument. I think that's how she expresses her inner savagery."

"So, she really did go to the School of Julianos." Willow sounded disappointed. "Helen always swore that was the last thing she'd ever do."

"Wait a minute, was mom part of the Fighters Guild with you guys?" Daria asked.

Fox shook his head. "She wasn't. But she did hang with us for a bit, back when the three of us got some work in Kvatch. Don't think her mom approved of that very much," he added with a laugh.

"Grandma didn't strike me as someone who approved of much of anything." Daria had only met the woman once, when the Morgendorffers had ported to Kvatch and stayed there for a week while en route to Morrowind.

"I'm not a very good host, but I'll do my best," Daria said. She tried to think back to the rules. "Mom and dad will probably want you to stay in the room I share with my sister. My sister will throw a fit at having to sleep downstairs, which definitely makes me happy, so I'll go ahead and take your bags up."

"Oh, no!" Fox said. "Me and the old lady are used to sleeping outdoors. How about that balcony we saw? That'd be perfect."

"I do love sleeping beneath the stars," Willow said.

"Sad as I am to lose the chance to inconvenience Quinn, our house is yours."

Willow reached down to open up her canvas bag and started taking out a bunch of clay bottles. "We've brought gifts, of course! Mostly mazte but we did get one bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy."

"Great. I'm sure my parents—"

Daria paused when she saw Willow pop open one of the mazte bottles and take a swig before she handed it off to her husband who did the same. Then they settled into the chairs usually used by clients.

"Typically, you wait for the recipient before you start opening their gifts, but who am I to object? Uh, we do have some food. All local cuisine."

"More bugs? Guess that's all there is to eat in Morrowind. Hey, Willow? Maybe we can talk Jake into going hunting around here to get some real red meat. Remember when we caught that wild goat outside of Riverwood? Back when Jake got us kicked out of town?" Fox threw his head back and laughed.

"And how did dad manage that?" Daria asked.

"What did he do again? Oh yeah, some city guard made fun of Jake's hat. He was wearing one of those goofy Colovian fur hats for some reason, and Jake took it personally and tried to slug the guy." Fox laughed again. "He's lucky he didn't get skewered!"

Daria's eyes widened. Just how close had dad gotten to getting killed back then? And over something so trivial? The thought that she and Quinn might not exist because he'd picked a dumb fight gave her pause.

"I'll prep something in the kitchen for you," she said, less from being a good host and more from the desire to be on her own for a bit. A desire she'd already deferred for too long.

Once in the kitchen she considered her options. Cooking was far from her forte, but she knew some basic recipes. She could just give them some bread and scuttle but that risked making mom and dad look like poor hosts. On the other hand, a good host didn't leave guests on their own as soon as they'd arrived.

The strum of a hurdy-gurdy jangled in the air as Fox raised his voice in song.

"Sing ye now of Ysgramor, sing ye of his sword of gore..."

Looked like Fox and Willow were perfectly capable of entertaining themselves. With any luck, Daria thought, mom and dad would be home before she had to go back out to the office and actually talk to the pair.

She opened the pantry and wondered exactly what else she might learn about her parents that night. With mazte and brandy flowing among old friends, all kinds of things could slip.

It'd be a great opportunity for vicarious embarrassment.

Musical Outro - Midlife Crisis, by Faith No More

Coyote Yeager (Fox) - In the show, Coyote was a buddy of Jake and Helen's from their hippie days, who tried to maintain the lifestyle well into the '90s. Here, he's got a bit more edge and knows the Morgendorffers from Jake's time in the Fighters Guild. He's a Nord, and I figured foxes are more common in Skyrim than coyotes.

Willow Yeager (Willow) - Coyote/Fox's wife. Didn't see any need to change the name.

I chuckled at the inspiration for Fox and Willow you provided in your links. Hippies that never grew out of it. And you did a great job importing them into Third Era Morrowind.

Very ‘Daria’ for her to escape into the kitchen and ponder her next move while whipping up some buggy appetizers (not). I’ve actually learned quite a bit about Daria’s parents from this pair of Nordic hippies so far.

I remember this episode from the TV show, so I am looking forward to hearing about the good old hippie days of Mom and Dad.

I liked the hospitality rite. It may hokey in the modern day and age, buy traditions of hospitality were pretty much worldwide in the old days, from the Vikings to the Islamic Caliphate.

I liked Daria's wry observation about her mother's inner savage turned loose in the courtroom.

Jake got them kicked out of Riverwood? Probably something to do with his barely contained rage and frustration that was created by his abusive and absent father.

Oh, how dastardly of Daria to pump the house guests for dish on Mom and Dad's misspent youth!

@Acadian - Heh, there's plenty more about Jake and Helen's early days in this episode!

@SubRosa - Yeah, I figured the hospitality rite would make sense. Though as this episode reveals, while hospitality may be a human custom, it isn't necessarily one for Mer (as many a visitor to Morrowind has discovered).

Episode 10: The Worst Years of Our Lives

Chapter 2

Vicarious embarrassment had never been so dull.

Daria sighed as she and Quinn stood next to the dinner table where mom, dad, Fox, and Willow all gathered around. The hour was late, the air in the kitchen stale from too many sweaty bodies packed in its tiny confines for way too long.

And they just kept talking.

"Whatever happened to Maglin, anyway?" dad asked. He slurred his words a bit, still holding the bottle of Cyrodiilic brandy.

"Died on the job somewhere in Elsweyr," Fox said, shaking his head.

"Oh, that's terrible," mom clucked. She had her hands folded in front of her, and the tension in her shoulders suggested she was also getting tired of socializing.

"Hey, easy come easy go. That's how we fighters have to look at it, right, Willow?"

"Attachments will only slow you down," she said, with a nod.

"Speaking of attachments," Fox said, gesturing up at the roof, "this place is a mansion!"

Great, Daria thought. The last thing she wanted was for Fox to give mom and dad an opportunity to brag about the house.

"Excuse me," Daria said. "But Ondryn and Dimartani both have assignments for me to do, and I'd better get started on them."

A lie. But she did have a book she wanted to read and frankly she'd probably learn more from that than from listening to Fox and Willow yammer about old times.

"Now Daria, we do have guests," mom reminded her, sounding reluctant. "We have to be good hosts."

"Hold on, hold on. Assignments? Are those like guild contracts?" Fox asked.

Mom smiled. "We enrolled Daria and Quinn in Drenlyn Academy. It's a highly-rated institution where young people can practice skills like rhetoric and oratory."

"Huh. So, you learn how to talk?"

"Oh, mom's being too modest," Daria said. "We also learn about ruthless networking and the casual acceptance of nepotism as a means of advancement."

Fox still seemed confused. Then he turned to dad, who'd taken another swig. "You guys really have changed. Your girls can't learn anything in there. It's too structured! You gotta jump into the chaos to figure things out, the way you two did. Back in the day."

"Maybe you're right," dad mumbled.

Mom's smile turned rigid. "Times have changed, Fox."

"But the eternal truths of the endless road abide, dear Helen!" Willow proclaimed, throwing out her arms for emphasis.

"I'm not saying we should take the girls out of school! But maybe they need a little more for their education. You know, to keep things real," dad said.

Mom reached out, pried his fingers off the neck of the brandy bottle, and grabbed it to take a drink herself. "Oh, it's so fun to reminisce. Did you two ever try to settle down?" she asked.

"We lived in Bravil for five years. Got a long-term contract to guard a warehouse that no one wanted to steal from. Decent pay but we can't be tied down. Life's an adventure. I hope you two don't forget that."

"We haven't!" Jake jabbed a finger into the air as if making a point. "Hell, we traveled across the continent to get here."

"There you go! Must have had some wild encounters on the road."

Daria shook her head. "Actually, we used my mom's connections with the Mages Guild to conveniently teleport us halfway to Morrowind. We took a boat the rest of the way."

Fox gave dad a disappointed look.

"Yeah, but the boat ride was really tough! I kept getting sea-sick," dad protested.

"Aw, come on. The Jake I knew wouldn't be bothered by a boat ride!"

"The Jake you knew was in much better shape," mom muttered.

"What was that, honey?" dad asked.

Mom clapped her hands together. "What fun we're all having! Unfortunately, I have a busy day tomorrow and I really must catch up on work."

"But what about the sacred duty of hospitality?" Daria protested, trying to sound sincere.

"As the primary breadwinner of this household I get a certain degree of leeway that layabout teenagers don't," she growled. Then she turned to Fox and Willow. "I do apologize but I must get ready for my client meetings tomorrow!"

"Work? Helen, we gotta stay up late and sing old songs, like we used to!"

"As much as I'd love to, I don't think the neighbors would care for that."

"Another reason not to live in cities," Willow said. "They're such strange places."

Dad laughed. "You're too uptight, Helen. I say we sing!"

She forced a laugh. "My singing voice isn't what it used to be, and I have actual responsibilities now!"

"You're no fun," dad muttered.

"Girls, why don't you prepare a bath for our guests?"

"That won't be necessary," Willow said. "I prefer the feel of nature on my skin."

"Not to mention the smell," Daria added.

Mom grimaced. "Well draw a bath anyway. It's been a long hot day."



*********



The music started almost immediately after mom went to her office. Willow played the hurdy-gurdy while Fox sang about various bloody-handed heroes, dad stumbling along without fully knowing the tune.

Daria turned off the kitchen spigot once the bucket filled up. Her ears rang with the epic of Hjoring Eater-of-Faces as she lifted the bucket, grunting from the weight, and began the process of hauling it to the small backroom they used for bathing.

Once there, she poured the water into the small wooden tub. Still short of the halfway point. She put the bucket down and wiped her brow. Quinn tended to the small fire that would heat the bath.

"I get first dibs on the bath, okay?" Quinn said. "Me and the Fashion Club are going to the market tomorrow and we need to smell our best."

"Forget it. I'm hauling the water, so I get first dibs."

"But I need it to make a good impression! Who knows, I might meet some handsome young noble and get married and take care of everything for our family, but it'll all be undone if I don't smell perfect."

"I'll take my chances."

Quinn opened her mouth as if to say something but appeared to think better of it. "Fine. I guess since you're getting all gross and sweaty you need it more. What do you think of Fox and Willow?"

The ballad reached a crescendo, dad’s voice breaking at the climax where Hjoring Eater-of-Faces finally lived up to his name.

"As much as I enjoy seeing them embarrass mom and dad, I'm already sick of having to spend time with them."

"I mean about what they said. Sometimes I wonder if we are too sheltered. Like Balmora's pretty good when it comes to shopping but there are all these other cities where dresses and bargains might be even better and how would I know if I stay here? Maybe I should join the Fighters Guild."

"I'm sure you could offer some great fashion advice on what kind of scarves go best with plate mail."

"Ew, plate mail? Won't I smell all like rusty and stuff?"

"Depends how well you grease it."

"Ew, grease? Forget it then. Yeah, I'm getting kind of tired of them too. I don't like how they keep making fun of dad."

Daria thought about it. "It's sort of amusing. But they do it more often than I'm comfortable with."

With that, Daria took the empty bucket and walked back to the kitchen. She hoped their guests wouldn't stay much longer. She also knew that as good hosts, mom and dad would never kick them out no matter how much they wanted to.

Musical Outro - Summer of '69, by Bryan Adams

I'm not familiar with Belle & Sebastian. I'll have to check 'em out. 🎸

So this old Nordic couple are from the days dad actually used that sword he gave Daria, that's what I assume at least. Back then he held a sword, now he holds a virtual camcorder as he gets overexcited for his melancholy daughter.

When it says they ported to Kvatch does that mean Mage's teleport? Edit: Seems so, since it's mentioned they used a teleport later to get to MW.

Coyote looks like my dad, a former hippie basically! Willow looks exactly like somebody named Willow.



It's funny this is mentioned. This is exactly what I was smelling in my mind's nose, since 1). it's summer, 2). sounds like they haven't bathed in weeks, 3). the Morgendorffer home sounds sort of cramped if they're all in the same room.

Man, this conversation between the parents and their old-time friends feels stressed. I wonder if it's headed toward arguement. Plus, Daria's sort of stoking the fire a bit..

Yeesh... yeah, draw that bath!

The guests that stayed too long. . . . It is clear that while Daria’s parents have evolved to embrace such things as working and bathing, Fox and Willow remain frozen in Woodstock.

Given the effort to draw a bath, I’m not surprised that multiple bathers will need to take turns and establish the pecking order for who goes in what order.

I loved Quinn’s take on translating 'seeing more of the world' into 'visiting shoppes in distant lands'.

Edit: Oh, I'll miss the next couple episodes of everyone's stories. Off on a cruise in a couple days for about a week and a half. I'll catch up after I get back.

"We also learn about ruthless networking and the casual acceptance of nepotism as a means of advancement."
Its like going to Eton!

Fox and Willow were hanging out in Bravil? I wonder if they ever brushed shoulders with Buffy the Bowgirl or Teresa of the Faint Smile then?

Yes, please get them a bath. The people who claim they do not need it, are always the ones that absolutely need it the most!

I laughed out loud when Quinn brought up joining the Fighter's Guild, for better shopping opportunities!

And Fox and Willow quickly become the guests that would not leave, and the friends that would not grow up. Poor mom and dad.

@Renee - Some Belle and Sebastian songs do pop up in this series (though not until a bit later, if I recall correctly). But they're worth checking out regardless, like a mix of classical orchestration with pop sensibility (along with lyrics that can alternate between sardonic and wistful).

Yes, it's referring to Mages Guild teleportation. Definitely the easiest way to get around Tamriel.

So glad I'm getting the sensory stuff across. I want readers to see, hear, feel, and even smell Balmora as best they can.

@Acadian - Some people have a harder time letting go of the past than others.

As for the bath, I reasoned that since the Romans had indoor plumbing, it'd fit reasonably well for at least moderately wealthy citizens in Tamriel to have the same. Of course, drawing and heating a bath is still a ton of effort, so it's not something they'd do each day. A filled bath might be used for a while, with different family members or guests taking turns as needed (hence why first dibs is kind of a big deal).

Of course, you would also have public bathhouses. Wealthier citizens might still use them if they feel the need to wash up and just don't have the time or energy to fill up the home bath. Most bathhouses though, would cater toward poor and lower middle class residents, like Jane.

Have fun on the cruise!

@SubRosa - Bravil's seediness made it seem like a good place for characters like Fox and Willow. While this version of Cyrodiil isn't really patterned off the one seen in Oblivion, Bravil's still kind of a seedy place.

Funny how that works, isn't it?

Yup, dealing with unwanted guests is going to be the big struggle for this episode.

Episode 10: The Worst Years of Our Lives

Chapter 3

Drenlyn Academy felt like a sanctuary compared to the increasingly crowded Morgendorffer home.

It was a little past noon. Daria sat with Jane in the shadow of the library wall, the air there scorching them a bit less than it would in the direct sunlight.

"I'm not sure what's worse," Daria said. "Dealing with the incessant singing or watching dad regress to adolescence."

"I don’t know that one has to be worse than the other. They could both be equally awful."

"Plus, I have no idea how long they're going to stay. Mom reminded me this morning that it'd be rude to ask."

"That's one of the nice things about being a Dunmer. We don't have any rule about hospitality. If a guest's being a pain, we can just tell them to buzz off."

"I think the Dunmer definitely have the right idea about that."

"You know, Daria, you're free to crash at my place after school. Trent's on the road so there won’t be any unwanted music. J'dash did see a huge rat rooting through the alley next to the apartment, but he won't let the critter inside. Unless the rat pays rent.”

Rats could actually be a pretty serious problem in Vvardenfell, growing to monstrous sizes in the absence of natural predators.

"Thanks. Unfortunately, dad decided this morning that Quinn and I are going to go to the Fighters Guild with Fox and Willow so we can see the important things they do for the community."

School ended and Daria met up with Quinn at Drenlyn’s gate. They walked along the river market for a while, where the air buzzed with ferocious swarms of biting flies brought out by the sticky late summer heat.

"I was thinking," Quinn said.

"Before you ask: a pink moth-silk dress isn't generally considered suitable battle gear for the Fighters Guild."

"Ha. Ha. If you're done with your weird jokes, there might be something good we can get out of these jerks."

"Other than their departure?"

"Think about it. They knew mom and dad when they were our age, right?"

"A little older than our age but go on."

"So that means they know all the dirt! And if we can dig up that dirt then we can have something to use against mom and dad when we get in trouble."

Daria nodded. "I've never said no to good blackmail material. But weren't you complaining about how mean Fox was being to dad?"

"Ugh! That's totally different, Daria! Fox was being mean for no reason. Blackmail isn't being mean, it's being practical."

"For when you get in trouble, you mean."

"Oh, come on, you can use it, too. You know mom wouldn't approve of you going to those weird cornerclubs with Jane."

"Touché."

They reached Guild Row and walked up the gently sloping street. The Fighters Guild office was right next to the Mages Guild, the two buildings almost mirror images of each other. Daria hadn't been there since her brief tenure as a Mages Guild volunteer, and she idly wondered how Johanna was doing out in Sadrith Mora.

Walking beneath the archway in front of the door, Daria knocked and got no response. Not wanting to wait, she opened it and entered. The door led to a narrow adobe hallway sparsely decorated with threadbare rugs and crooked tapestries. A grimy window facing the alley let in a few beams of soiled sunlight. The musty odor in the place made it smell like an unwashed armpit, and Quinn gagged behind her.

"Don't they ever, like, clean this place?"

"Apparently not. Hello?"

Her voice echoed down the hall. A little unsettled, she nonetheless moved forward. If the layout was anything like the Mages Guild's office, most of it was underground. Stairs going down after a bend in the hall confirmed her suspicion.

The smell worsened as she descended, accompanied by the greasy stink of armor oil. Light came from basement windows, and the feet of passersby cast shadows on the wall.

"Are you sure this is the Fighters Guild?" Quinn asked.

"It has the sign outside, and I know we're on Guild Row. But hey, maybe it's a secret Camonna Tong hideout pretending to be a guild office."

Daria regretted the joke the moment she made it, her mind flashing back to Synda and her thugs in that early morning alley. She drove away the thought. If this were a Camonna Tong hideout, she and Quinn would already be dead.

She felt better once she heard heavy objects hitting each other, accompanied by loud grunts. The door at the end of the hall opened up to an enormous subterranean sparring room. A woven mat covered the floor and cloth dummies were propped up on sticks. Wooden weapons, some cushioned and some not, waited in their racks.

Dad, Fox, and Willow stood nearby, talking to an enormous red-headed Nord woman wearing bonemold armor and a baleful expression.

"Oh, hey, girls! Welcome to the fighter's life!" dad exclaimed, waving.

"Please tell me you didn't sign us all up for the guild," Daria said.

"Ha ha, no, I don't meet the physical standards anymore. But Fox and Willow are members and so we can hang around as long as they’re here! Isn't this exciting? You know, the Fighters Guild does a lot of important work. Protecting caravans, hunting monsters, sometimes even tracking down criminals!"

Daria crossed her arms. "Hmm. So, what you're saying is that the Empire's inability to adequately police its own territory means it has to outsource security to private institutions of dubious ethics."

Dad looked hurt, and Daria almost regretted her statement. She was right, though.

"No, kiddo," he said, "it's people doing their part. This is, uh, why I wanted you to see it. You could do some sparring, like we used to do back on Stirk!"

"I'd love to spar, daddy," Quinn said, "but I'd like to do it with Willow. I feel like I can learn a lot from her."

"That's great! Hey, Willow!"

Surprised, Daria gave Quinn a quizzical look. She tapped her head and mouthed: "Blackmail!"

"What about you, Daria? Ready to test yourself in the art of battle?" dad asked.

"I think I'll pass. It's dark enough in here that I won't be able to see anything if I take off my glasses. And sparring with my glasses on is definitely not an option."

"Huh, guess I should have thought of that."

Feeling a little bad for her dad, she decided to let him off easy. "You go and spar with Fox. I'll sit over there and read my book."

"Okay. But watch what we're doing! That way you can get a feel for what it's like!" Dad turned around. "Hey, Fox, ready?"

"Just a minute, Jake. I'm discussing some business with Eydis over here. I'll join you in a bit."

"Sure thing!"

Dad ambled over to the nearest weapons rack and examined the different practice swords on display. He picked one up and for one moment looked like a hardy northern warrior. Then the gentle father he was came back to the fore.

Still thinking about her sister's blackmail suggestion, Daria walked over to where Fox and Eydis spoke. Taking her book from her bag, she opened it and pretended to read while she listened.

"Look, Fox," Eydis said, her tone annoyed. "we don't have too many contracts available right now. And frankly, your reputation isn't the best."

"Me and my old lady want to settle down in Balmora. We've been on the road for months."

"Spend a few more days on the road and you can see what kinds of jobs they have in Vivec City or Ald'ruhn."

"Come on, Eydis. We found a place to stay here."

"You could always sleep in the guild barracks," Eydis said.

"I mean a nice place! Old buddy of mine's letting us crash. We're in our forties. Sleeping on the hard ground or some barracks cot isn't as easy as it used to be. Figured we'd stick around with him for a few months. Until we get enough to rent a place of our own."

Hearing that, Daria glowered at the text she pretended to read. So much for a happy life on the road. She considered telling dad, but he'd never see it through his nostalgia blinders.

"That isn't my problem, Fox. If you'd done your bit in Bravil you could have had a nice and cushy desk job. Instead, you decided to strike off on your own, mid-contract. Frankly, you're lucky your membership wasn't revoked." She sighed and rubbed her temple. "I have a grunt job you and your wife can do."

"Uh, sure. Will it lead to more?"

"If you do a good job and finish it, yes. There's a big rat causing problems in Labor Town, down by the southern wall near the river. A Khajiit junk dealer named J’dash hired us to take care of it. Ask him, and you should be able to track it down."

Daria’s eyes widened at hearing the name.

Fox laughed in disbelief. "A rat? You gotta be kidding me, I can—"

"You can take or leave it." Eydis crossed her arms and stared him down.

"What about guard duty or something—" Fox started.

"Hey, I remember you!"

Daria flinched at the sudden exclamation in her left ear, the voice male and Dunmer though unusually high-pitched. It took a moment for her to recognize the speaker when she saw him: skinny, in oversized bonemold armor that left his flat gray belly exposed and wearing a guileless smile one didn't usually see on the native-born.

"Kavon?" It came back to her: the dimwitted Hlaalu guard and Briltasi's secret boyfriend.

"Yeah! You're, uh, Briltasi's friend! Sorry, I forgot your name."

"I'm Daria. And I’m more of an acquaintance. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to—"

"Cool! Thanks for keeping that whole thing a secret, by the way! I don't want Briltasi's folks getting mad at me. Or at her!" he all but shouted.

"If you want to keep it a secret, I suggest lowering your voice."

"Oh, right! Sorry," he whispered. "Hey, are you part of the Fighters Guild? That's cool! Oh, wait! That's what those glass things on your eyes are for, huh? They're like eye armor! I never thought about eye armor. I should get a pair."

"Arrows just bounce off these old eye-plates," she said, tapping the side of her right lens. Fox and Eydis were still negotiating, the former sounding increasingly desperate. "Look, I really need—"

"I'm here to join up in the guild and see if they have any jobs! I'm a pretty tough guy so I can make myself useful around here."

"Aren't you already working for House Hlaalu as a guard? Seems like that'd be a conflict of interest."

He waved his hand. "Nah, they don't mind if we take a few jobs on the side. Plus, I need the money! I want to buy something nice for Briltasi pretty soon because it's almost our year-long thingy."

"Ann-i-ver-sa-ry," Daria corrected, enunciating each syllable.

"Yeah, that! You think I'll be good for this?"

Daria observed the sparring room, full of people hitting each other with wooden sticks. At the far end, a panicked Quinn warded off Willow's strikes as best she could, steadily retreating under the assault.

"I think you'll fit right in." She thought back to the conversation she'd overheard—the portion of it, anyway. "But from what I hear, there aren't many jobs available."

Kavon’s face fell. "Aw, man!"

Daria considered the situation. Eydis obviously didn't like Fox. If Kavon asked to do the job—and killing a rat probably fell within his skill set—would she give it to him instead?

"Try asking the Nord woman over there. Her name's Eydis," Daria said, pointing to her. "She mentioned something about a rat in Labor Town, but you better move fast. She's already negotiating a contract with the guy she's talking to."

"Okay, will do! Thanks, Daria!"

Trying to look inconspicuous, Daria watched and waited to see what would happen next.

Musical Outro - Iron Man, by Black Sabbath

Eydis Fire-Eye - Eydis is the deeply corrupt steward of the Fighters Guild in Morrowind.

Maybe J'dash should hire the Fighters Guild to deal with that rat problem. They love those contracts...

I think a pink moth-silk dress would be a great look for the guild!

Looks like bathing is not high on the FG priority list. It sounds like living in an old gym sock.

The Empire and its embrace of mercenaries sounds rather familiar...

Oh boy, Fox wants to stick around for months! EEp!

OMG! They did get the rat contract!

Hey, its Kavon! Maybe he will swoop in and scoop up that rat contract if Fox is not careful.

Oh my gosh. The sisters want to dig up secrets on their parents!

Dad doesn't meet their Requirements anymore! So he's no longer got the Strength or Endurance. He's no longer as skilled with Long Blade, Blunt Weapons, Axe, Blocking attacks, or Heavy Armor. Oh, or smithing. Geez, poor dad. And poor kids. Their time sounds awful.

Daria's got her book again! I'm giggling over here. I bet Fox and Willow won't even finish their rat contract. 🐀

Does Quinn kick any ass as she spars? Guess we'll find out.

@SubRosa - The Fighters Guild could probably stand to expand its retinue. Fashion might not be a bad choice. The catwalk and the battlefield have a lot in common.

@Renee - Nope, he's let those skills decline. His Speechcraft and Mercantile have probably improved. Maybe he has a future in Great House Hlaalu?

You'll soon see how Quin fares...

Episode 10: The Worst Years of Our Lives

Chapter 4

Sure, Willow acted like she was all sweet and at peace with the world, but it turned out she really wasn't.

Quinn barely blocked another of Willow's swift strikes. The staff's ends were padded but it'd still hurt if she got hit! Plus, she had to wear a smelly cloth helmet which probably hadn't been washed in years!

She’d need another bath that night. This time she’d get first dibs.

Willow paused to take a breath, her face red and sweaty.

"Uh, so anyway Willow, I'm wondering what mom was like when she was my age! What kinds of crazy things did you guys get up to?"

"Twenty damn years," Willow muttered. "And I'm still on the road killing things to earn food and shelter!"

Quinn took another step back. "See, I didn't mean killing things. More like what kinds of fun things you did! Like staying out late with cute boys, or buying accessories you couldn't afford—"

"Why can't I have a house? We had one once, in Bravil. A son, too! But Fox had to keep on adventuring. We gotta be free," she mimicked.

"A son?"

Willow shouted and lashed out. Quinn blocked but the impact tore the staff out of her hands. Then Willow struck Quinn's calves and literally swept her off her feet.

Quinn landed on her back, the mat soft but smelling like the sweat of a million different people.

"Not bad," Willow said, acting like she was all normal again. "Want another try?"

"Actually, I think I'll just lie here a little while," Quinn said, too tired to complain.



*********



Daria inched closer to make sure she heard the brewing confrontation.

"Hey! My name's Kavon and I want to join the Fighters Guild!"

Eydis, still standing next to Fox, eyed the young Dunmer up and down. "All right. You want to read the guild bylaws, first?"

"Nah, I don't have time to read. I'm here to fight!"

Eydis smirked. "Just the way I like it."

"You need someone to kill a rat? 'Cause I'm your guy!"

"Hold on," Fox interrupted. "That's my job!"

"Oh." Kavon hung his head.

Daria whispered a curse. He was giving up too easily.

"Besides, Eydis,” Fox continued, “you don't want some scrub like this doing the job. You want a seasoned professional."

"Actually, Fox, killing a rat is a job for a scrub. I like this kid's hustle. Kavon, you with Hlaalu?"

"Uh, I'm not a member but I work for them! I help guard High Town."

"Interesting. How long you been doing this?"

"A year."

Eydis cocked her head, eyes still on Kavon. "I don't know, Fox. He's a gainfully employed guard and you're a vagrant who's behind on his guild dues."

"You can take the dues out of my payment for this job!" Fox offered.

"Except your payment won't cover all of what you owe."

Kavon scratched his head. "What are dues?"

"Don't worry about them, kid. I'm having a hard time making a decision here. Here's what I'll do: you both have the job. First person to kill the rat in Labor Town gets the fifty-septim reward."

Fox's jaw dropped. "What? You can't do that! Guild Act doesn't let—"

"I do whatever the hell I want."

"Thanks, Sera Eydis!" Kavon said.

"Kid's got a good attitude. Never too late to learn, Fox."

No longer pretending to read, Daria watched and wondered what, if anything, she should do next. If Kavon pulled it off, it might get Fox and Willow to leave Balmora. She didn't doubt Kavon capable of killing a rat, even the mean dog-sized variety found in Morrowind. But he might not be smart enough to find it on his own, and Eydis's directions hadn't been the best.

Daria, on the other hand, knew exactly where the client lived.

"I don't believe this!" Fox whirled to Kavon and pointed at him. "You're in way over your head. My advice to you is to stay out of our way."

"Uh, okay. Sera Eydis, can I get started?" Kavon asked.

Eydis laughed. "Whenever you're ready, kid."

"All right!" Kavon pumped his fist into the air.

Fox looked back over his shoulder. "Willow! We got a job and we gotta do it, pronto!"

Standing over a defeated Quinn, Willow jogged over to her husband. Dad, who'd been loitering by the weapons rack with a dejected expression on his face, took notice.

"What's going on?" he asked, shouting to be heard across the room.

"Me and the old lady got some work. You remember what a hustle it could be. We won't be back until late!"

A beaming Kavon walked by. "Thanks, Daria! I owe you one! Again!"

"If anything, Kavon, I might owe you one." Then a thought came to her. "Actually, Kavon, could you wait outside for me? I need to ask you about something."

"Okay!" he said before walking out the door.

Daria stood up. Fox and Willow were talking to dad, who seemed as confused as ever. If she was going to make her move, it needed to be now.

"Dad," she said, "I need to go to Jane's."

"Uh, sure thing, kiddo! Just be back before it gets dark."

"Will do," she said.

Remembering Quinn, Daria looked back to see her sister leaning against the wall, grouchy but none the worse for wear. No need to worry about her, she decided.

Kavon waited for her in the bright sunlight outside, as he'd promised.

"I have a proposition for you," Daria said.

"Uh," he grunted, rubbing the back of his neck. "No offense, Daria, but you're not really my type."

She wondered precisely how stupid he actually was and had a bad feeling she was about to find out. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh! What did you mean?"

"You know that guy you're competing with? His name's Fox and he and his wife are guests at my house. Guests I’d like to get rid of. I'm hoping that if you get the job done before he does, they'll give up on working here and annoy someone else in a different city. Thus, I have a vested interest in your success."

"Can't you kick him out?"

"No, because of this stupid human thing called hospitality. But frankly, he and his wife are disrupting my mom's business, keeping us up to obnoxious hours, and eating all of our food. If they stay on much longer, I'll probably have to smother them in their sleep and a murder rap is the last thing an upwardly mobile young person like me needs on her resume."

Kavon stroked his chin, clearly puzzled. "Man, you outlanders are weird. I'd kick him out. So if I kill the rat like Eydis wants, Fox has to leave your house?"

"That's the hope. I'll be happy to help you. I'm not much of a fighter but I happen to know the client."

"Cool!"

"On that case, let's do this while we still have a head start on Fox and Willow."



*********



“Say, Jake?”

Fox got that devious look he’d always gotten when he was about to go all out. It worried Jake, but he didn’t know what else to do but listen. Around him, fighters sparred and cursed. He felt every one of his forty-six years.

“Yeah?”

“You know where we can find J’dash? The guy hiring us for this contract?”

The name sounded familiar. One of Quinn’s friends?

“Uh, I’m not sure—”

“Maybe you could help us look for him, Jake,” Willow said. “You know this city better than we do.”

“I don’t get into Labor Town a whole lot.”

Fox gripped his shoulder. “Come on. You’re still a warrior, deep down. It’ll be like old times.”

Like old times: blistered feet and soaked clothes; the screams of stricken men and knowing that one moment of bad luck would bring him to a bloody end. The brandy had kept him from thinking about that too much the previous night. But now he was sober.

“I should check with my wife, first—”

The voice of his father, the Mad Wolf of Haafingar, cut into him like a cruel winter’s wind. “No true Nord shuns hardship, Jakob! Are you a man? A warrior? Or are you some cringing shopkeeper enthralled to a woman?”

Jake shivered. “I am a man! And a warrior.” His heart pounded. His mind reeled.

Why am I doing this again? he asked himself.

“Great! That Dunmer kid already has a head start on us, so let’s go!”

Jake, Fox, and Willow went out to seek violence. Just like the old times Jake hated so very much.

Musical Outro - Dirty Boots, by Sonic Youth

Ethan Yeager (Fox and Willow's son) - Ethan doesn't show up in the story, presumably still being in Bravil where his parents left him.

Mad Dog Morgendorffer (The Mad Wolf of Haafingar) - Jake's father never makes an appearance in the series, but his shadow looms large as an emotionally abusive parent who traumatized his son. It's much the same way here.

Oh no, not a smelly cloth helmet! The indignities one must suffer in this world...

Willow is letting things slip, but not quite the fun things that Quinn and Daria were hoping for. It turns out that a life of wandering and adventure might not be everything that Talsgar the Wanderer makes it out be.

"Nah, I don't have time to read. I'm here to fight!"
He sounds perfect!

I never really liked Eydis much. She has always just rubbed me the wrong way. Though I never got far enough into the Fighters Guild questline to see if there was anything actually to that or not. I see you got that too, because she certainly seems unhindered by a strict sense of ethics here.

She wondered precisely how stupid he actually was and had a bad feeling she was about to find out.
That is one of those questions you really never want to learn the answer to.

Oh boy, there is poor Dad, and the never-ending trauma that his father inflicted upon him. One thing I really give Jake credit for is the realizes how fucked up that is, and he has worked very hard to not do the same to his children. He is still scarred by the abuse of course, but he's a far better man that his father ever was.

@SubRosa - Yup, turns out that a life spent on the road has its pitfalls. Some folks can make it work, but Fox and Willow have been doing it too long.

As the Fighters Guild quest line may reveal (depending on how you play it) Eydis is bad. She's in cahoots with folks who are even worse.

Jake's got his flaws, but yes. There's no question that he's a much better father than his own father.

Episode 10: The Worst Years of Our Lives

Chapter 5

The sun burned its way to the west as Daria and Kavon walked through Labor Town. Shadows grew long in the crowded streets as merchants made their last calls to the weary workers trudging to homes and cornerclubs.

"Isn't clearing the town of pests something the Hlaalu guards should be doing?" Daria asked as they walked. She had to shout to be heard above the hoarse cries of stubborn traders.

"Oh, yeah, we do that!" Kavon said.

"But you're killing this rat on behalf of the Fighters Guild."

"Us guards only do pest control in High Town and the Commercial District. Labor Town's big so it'd be super-expensive for us to keep it clean. My boss said that having the folks in Labor Town hire Fighters Guild guys means the rest of us don't have to pay as many taxes."

"What about the fact that people in Labor Town don't usually have as much money? Doesn't that mean they can't typically afford to hire fighters? And the pest problem gets worse?"

"Aw, they always figure something out. Anyway, this means more work for people like me."

"Classic Hlaalu. But you've killed rats before."

"Nope," Kavon said, almost proudly.

"What do you do as a guard, then?"

"I keep watch on the towers around High Town. But don't worry, Daria. A big part of being a guard is looking tough enough that nobody messes with you. And me?" He stopped and turned to face her, then took a flexing poise. "I look pretty tough."

"Kavon, you know I can't see you flex through that armor, right?"

"Huh?" His eyes widened, and then he let his arms fall. "Oh, yeah, huh. Anyway, I'm not worried. We'll probably scare the rat away."

They reached the apartment to find out that Jane wasn’t home yet. However, J’dash was happy to show Daria where he’d found the rat. The Khajiit had actually sniffed out the trail that morning, so he retraced his steps and led Daria and Kavon to a narrow alley a few blocks away from the South Wall Cornerclub. Filth and garbage lay heaped up against the dirt-streaked walls, their moldering forms studded with clay shards and dried beetle husks.

"Rat is somewhere here." He made a growling noise. "Khajiit finds the smell offensive. Perhaps noses of Mer and Men are less sensitive?"

If it reeked to her, it was probably borderline intolerable to him. The alley wasn't long, terminating in a wall about ten feet in. The rat likely made its nest under one of the heaps.

"Okay," she said. "First we find the nest."

"And then charge in! Yeah!" Kavon exclaimed.

"A rat nest is way too small for you to charge into," Daria said.

"But isn't this like a really big rat?"

"Not big enough for that. Rats tend to be retiring, so our target’s going to come out at night when there are fewer people around. What we should do is make a trail of food from the rat’s nest to the mouth of the alley. We wait for it to follow, and then strike.”

“Imperial is a clever huntress,” J’dash said.

“If I remember correctly, rats do like the taste of marshmerrow pulp.”

“Bosmer a few streets down sells marshmerrow. Come, this one will show you,” J’dash offered.

“Kavon, you stand guard.”

“Yes ma’am!”

A bit later, Daria returned with a few marshmerrow reeds in her hand. Now came the hard part.

Taking a deep breath, Daria stepped into the alley. It was like wading into a sea of stench and she suppressed a gag. Her eyes watered, mixing with the distortion of her glasses so that she could barely see.

"Dammit," she uttered. She took off her glasses and blinked away the tears. A soft step behind her revealed the presence of J’dash.

Daria again donned her glasses and stepped forward, her booted foot sinking into something wet. She wondered if the bathwater still in the tub from last night was clean enough for another go-around. Trying not to breathe, she peered through the darkness for some sign of a nest. The rat could be huddled underneath any of the decaying heaps.

"Rat is here," J'dash whispered, pointing to a partially collapsed barrel a few feet ahead. "Khajiit can smell it."

"Okay." Daria leaned in for a better look. She couldn't see a thing, but Khajiit had sharper senses than humans. She took one of the marshmerrow strands and tore off a chunk. Sticky and sugary pulp dripped out the ripped end. She threw the piece at the nest and it landed in front of the entrance.

Daria tossed another and another, making a trail. Doing this, she backed out of the alley, all the while hoping she didn't slip on anything and fall into the muck.

Finally done, she looked to Kavon as the last of the sun’s light slipped behind the adobe blocks. "Now we wait."



*********



“You win again, old man,” Jake muttered as he pretended to know where he was going.

The grid of Labor Town spread out in all directions, the big streets connected by winding alleys that ran between the rough earthen apartments and grubby shops. Jake mostly helped independent Dunmer merchants figure out how to pitch their goods to the shipping magnates that connected Vvardenfell with mainland Morrowind and the rest of the Empire, and those merchants usually lived in the Commercial District.

“Hey, Jake, you sure you know where you’re going?” Fox asked.

“This is like Karthwasten all over again,” Willow muttered.

“Uh, give me minute. They’re always doing construction in Labor Town. It’s like it’s never the same neighborhood two days in a row!” He faked a laugh.

Who was he fooling? He was a failed warrior and thus a failed man, like dad had said. He didn’t actually want to kill the rat. Sure, he got that rats were dangerous, but he’d seen enough blood for one lifetime. Poor rat probably just wanted a few crumbs, same as anyone else.

They came to a crossroads plaza where late shoppers searched for deals under the darkening sky. At the edge walked a Dunmer girl with bobbed black hair and a canvas under her arm.

“Oh! Jane!” he cried out.

Jane turned, eyes widening in surprise.

“Hi, Mr. Morgendorffer! Didn’t expect to see you in Labor Town.”

“Didn’t expect to be here! Say, could you do me a favor? My friends are from the Fighters Guild, and they’ve been hired by some guy named J’dash to kill a rat—”

“J’dash! Yeah, he’s my landlord. Didn’t know he’d hired the guild to take care of the rat.”

That’s how he knew the name! “Think you could show us where he is?”

“Follow me.”

“Yes!” Jake cheered. His smile vanished when he saw the puzzled looks from Fox and Willow.

Why didn’t they get it? He’d used networking to find J’dash. The great thing about leveraging personal relations for business was that you didn’t have to cut anyone’s head off. Not usually, anyway.

“Who’d you paint today, Jane-o?” he asked, to distract himself.

“Conemmus Terano. Big-shot silk merchant. He doesn’t live far from you.”

“Oh yeah, I know him. Nice guy. By the way, is Daria still at your place?”

“Huh? I don’t—oh, yeah, she left right when I went to go, uh, retrieve my painting from the Terano house. She must be home by now.”

“Great!”

Jane brought them to a cluttered junk shop with a tiny second story.

“Hmm, no lights. He might not be home.”

Fox groaned. “Great going, Jake.”

“Hold on,” Jane said. “The rat ran off when J’dash found it, but he sniffed out its trail. Khajiit can do that. I think I remember where he went. Let me put my things upstairs, first. And maybe get J'dash's club, just in case.”

What a relief. He was useful!

“You’re a lifesaver, Jane. Lead the way once you get everything!”

Musical Outro - Awful, by Hole

Once again I love how you worked Classism into the story. The Hlaalu guards routinely kill these rats, but only for the people who matter. The Poors are expected to spend the money they don't have to have it done by a mercenary company. Or do it themselves. Capitalism!

So the rat lives in an alley filled with trash. If only there was some way to prevent places like that from turning into cesspits that attract vermin, like implementing social services such as trash collection. But I can't think of anything like that...

So Daria wants to lure it out with a trail of food? My plan was to burn down the alley and all the buildings adjacent to it. But, okay Daria, we'll try it your way first.

Oh noes! Jane is going to unwittingly foil Daria's plan! I am sure hijinks will ensue however.

Jake is quite right. He did use networking to solve a problem. Without cutting anyone's head off.

Had an enjoyable cruise. Some catching up to do here though!

Chapter 3

Keep the rats out if they don’t pay rent – great policy!

Quinn, in her so totally suitable pink moth-silk dress, continues to show us her particular form of cleverness as she touts the blackmail potential from their houseguests. Though I did have to laugh at her totally Quinnish reaction to the wonderful smells in the Fighters Guild.

Ahah, so Daria overhears how Fox plans to overmilk his friendship with her dad to stay for months – ugh!

Rats! I kind of hope the rats take down Fox and Willow – poof, problem of unwanted houseguests solved.

"Arrows just bounce off these old eye-plates," - - Daria has so much more wits than Kavon it is quite unfair.

Chapter 4

Aww, poor Quinn gets her pink-dressed arse kicked. . . but does learn that Willow is not a happy hippie.

The three way among Kavon, Fox and Eydis was a hoot! I will say Eydis knows at least a little about human/mer nature and did some good string pulling given that one prospect is lazy and the other dumb as a rock.

Daria has a good plan to pair her brain and location knowledge with Kavon’s young, dumb, strong sword arm. Damn, Fox is. . . foxier than I thought. Of course he’s going to pair up with Willow. Doubledamn, now the manipulative ashbag has sucked Jake into his quest. I’m guessing this could get real interesting. . . .

Chapter 5

I laughed as Daria described rats as ‘retiring’ – then of course went on to explain what that meant for Kavon’s benefit. A good plan team Daria has.

Uh-oh, team Jake gets some unexpected help from Jane. Too bad she had not been home when Daria popped by her house – then she would surely have been on team Daria. Not Jane’s fault that she’s unaware of what’s going on here. In true Jane fashion though she smoothly covers for her friend in response to the ‘Is Daria still visiting with you?’ question.

Well, here’s hoping the rat takes out Fox & Willow, then Kavon kills the rat. Poof, all problems solved.

The sparring session between Quinn and Willow sounds awful! Shouldn't Willow be teaching the younger gal some moves? Sounds like she's just pummeling the poor child.

Cool. I actually like there's a contest between Fox and this Kavon kid. That's smart. Especially since Fox was initially complaining about being an exterminator. 🐀

Sonic Youth is great! ... Since you're new to this sort of music, it's important to know SY is one of the bands from the 1980s which inspired a whole bunch of acts from the '90s, like a lot of those Seattle bands. But I don't wanna get too off-topic. Suffice it to say that while SY was beginning, most popular heavy music from the times were a bunch of spandex-wearing, big-haired "metal" bands. Fun music, but not really raw and gritty (except Metallica, who was the huge exception).



Ha, you know? Anyway, it sounds like for all his words, Kavon is getting into something over his head. Because looking big & tough will definitely NOT scare any dog-sized rodents away.

Jake uses his networking skills. Fox & Willow seem to disapprove of this. Wow.

This seems like it's going to be a cluster[censored].

@SubRosa - Technically (puts on pedant hat), Great House Hlaalu is mercantilist, not capitalist. With mercantilism, prices are determined by monopolies with powerful state-backing, and there's a general assumption that an entity should try to control all the resources particularly for export. While capitalists will typically claim that they support competitive market environments, and be against government monopolies, but plenty will end up supporting such things so long as they benefit. Maybe mercantilists are just more open about what they support?

Services like trash collection? Pah, the very idea! Clearly, those affected should just hire the Fighters Guild for the job.

(In Project Tamriel lore, there is a Ratcatchers Guild, but I think they're limited to Cyrodiil).

And as much as Daria dislikes networking, she's better suited for that than she is for combat.

@Acadian - Welcome back!

Yeah, the overall situation keeps escalating here. The characters that Fox and Willow were based on had tired of the hippie life, but didn't want to admit it. Same here, except the fighters' life is a lot more grueling and dangerous. I figure that being in the Fighters Guild is a lot like doing any other heavily physical job. It's extremely draining, and best to get on the business side of things once you hit middle age.

@Renee - Willow's got a lot of anger to work through.

Yeah, Nirvana's often credited with disrupting the rock scene, but I know that there were other bands that also played a big part. Kind of a repeat of punk arising as a reaction to disco, though on a much larger scale (since I think punk remained fairly niche).

Kavon's going to be in way of his head. Lucky for him, he has help.

Episode 10: The Worst Years of Our Lives

Chapter 6

Daria waited as sunset turned to dusk. Only stragglers still walked down the street. It was unwise to wander alone through Labor Town at night. Then again, she’d only ever been attacked in the Commercial District.

She and Kavon sat behind the corner of the abandoned apartment next to the alley, eyes on the trail of marshmerrow segments winding through the trash. Hopefully, the rat would follow the trail to them. Kavon would kill it, but as a precaution he’d lent her a short blade made of sharpened chitin. It wasn’t much, but better than nothing.

J’dash hovered behind them, apparently wanting to see this through to the end.

“Man, this is boring—” Kavon started.

Daria hushed him, not wanting chatter to scare away the rat. He was right though. The waiting was boring. She found it hard to believe someone as high-strung as dad could have ever put up with this sort of thing.

“Khajiit hears Jane! But what is Jane doing here?” J’dash said.

“Huh?” Daria turned around to see J’dash pointing back from where they came. Dad and Jane walked down the street, with Fox and Willow behind them.

She turned cold. This was bad. “Kavon, hide.”

“Huh? I’m a fighter, Daria, I don’t hide. And I thought you didn’t want me to talk—”

“Just hide, dammit! Your competitors from the guild are here, and I don’t want them to figure out that we’ve found the rat’s lair.”

J’dash made a rattling purr. “Maybe competitors are not so bad. Khajiit is concerned about that one’s competence,” he said, pointing to Kavon.

He had a point. “Look, let me see what’s going on,” Daria said.

Exhaling and hoping she didn’t smell too awful, Daria approached the quartet. Jane led the way, a stout stick in her right hand.

“Daria, is that you?” dad called, his voice echoing in the street.

“It’s me. What’s going on?”

“I thought you went home.”

She remembered her earlier excuse about going to Jane’s. “No, I hung around for a bit. I’m, uh, about to go home.”

They got close enough to speak at normal volume. “This isn’t a safe place, kiddo.”

“I know. I lost track of the time.” She decided to feign ignorance. “What are Fox and Willow doing here?”

“We got a contract to kill a rat in this neighborhood,” Fox said.

Kavon stepped away from the alley entrance. “Uh, hey! Me and Daria already found the rat. So you guys gotta find a different rat to kill.”

Daria put her palm over her face.

“What’s going on here?” dad demanded.

Fox glared at dad. “I think your daughter was helping the opposition. Maybe she’s sweet on the kid.”

“I am most certainly not,” Daria said.

Then Fox turned to Kavon and stalked toward him, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Willow followed close, the butt of her spear tapping on the ground.

“Look, punk. My wife and I have killed more people than you can count to. So you’d best get out of here before we turn mean.”

Kavon puffed up his chest. “Oh yeah? I’m not afraid of you.”

“Rat is here!” J’dash shouted. “Idiots!”

Daria looked in time to see an enormous rat barrel out of the alley. Bristling black fur as thick as a porcupine’s quills covered its muscular body, and the naked pink tail moved like a whip.

“Guys! It’s the rat!” dad yelled.

The rat ran past J’dash, trying to make a break for it. Dad moved first, shouting as he jumped in its path. It swerved toward Daria. She drew her puny weapon as the monster bore down, its incisors gleaming in the torchlight. It suddenly shrieked in pain as Jane beat its flank with her stick. The beast spun and lunged at her, but she ably hopped out of the way.

Hissing in rage, the rat whirled and scurried in the other direction. J’dash was already waiting. The Khajiit ducked low and lashed out with his hand. The rat tumbled, screeching as blood and worse spilled out from its body. Dragging itself a bit farther down the street, it collapsed and went still.

Meanwhile, Kavon still argued with Fox and Willow.

“I don’t care that you were here first, we’ve been with the guild longer!” Fox said.

J’dash stalked up to the quarreling trio and roared. He thrust out his clawed right hand, drenched in blood.

“Khajiit has killed the rat! Khajiit will not pay Fighters Guild! Guild has done nothing on this day.”

“Wait, you killed the rat?” Kavon asked.

“Yes, Khajiit has done guild's job. Khajiit will enjoy the coin Khajiit was going to give to guild. Only Khajiit’s friends helped.” He motioned to the rest.

Willow pointed at Kavon. “See what you did? Now none of us are going to get paid!”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me! I’d have been on that rat if you jerks hadn’t interrupted.”

“We needed that job!” Fox stepped back and drew his sword.

Daria gasped. Killing rats was one thing. People killing each other was quite another. There had to be something she could say, some clever remark.

Instead, dad stepped between the combatants with his arms held out.

“All of you settle down!” he bellowed.

Again, Daria saw the warrior he’d once been: fearless and in control. Judging by the reactions, so did Fox, Willow, and Kavon.

“Look,” he continued, in a quieter voice. “You guys need to do some basic cost-benefit analysis. How much is this job worth?”

“Fifty septims. That we need!” Fox groused.

“Okay, fifty septims. And how are you going to spend that in prison if you kill this kid over here?”

“It’s not about the money!” Fox said.

“No, it totally is,” Willow corrected.

“It’s always about the money!” dad said, his voice turning cheery. “What kind of work do you do, son?” he asked Kavon.

“Uh, I’m a guard.”

“Hmm, I don’t think the guard captains would like one of their own getting into fights with guildies.”

Kavon nodded. “Huh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Uh, what were we fighting about?”

Fox shook his head. “Clever words, Jake, but words are no match for blades. Plus, uh, we still need that money.”

“I’m not finished yet!” Jake said. “That fifty wasn’t going to take you far. And I heard how you negotiated with Eydis, with all that stuff about unpaid dues. You never want to start a business relationship off from a position of weakness.”

“But the guild is all we know!” Willow protested.

“Which is why you need to diversify your employment opportunities! There’s plenty of guys looking for tough fighters like you. In fact, I happen to know that the East Empire Company is always hiring.”

Fox looked abashed. “East Empire Company? I don’t want to go corporate—”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Willow said.

Some of the tension left the air. Weapons were still drawn but held loosely.

Dad kept going. “Pay’s not bad and they’ll give you a place to stay. Spend a few years doing a good job and that mix-up with the guild won’t matter.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Fox spoke. “I can’t believe I got that worked up over a rat-killing job. Maybe you’re right, Jake. Maybe it’s time to settle down and let go of the past.”

“Long past time,” Willow muttered.

“So, uh, are we still mad at each other?” Kavon asked.

Fox shook his head. “Nah, Jake talked some sense into us. Sorry for going after you, kid.”

“Aw, it’s okay.”

Fox held out his hand, and Kavon was apparently familiar enough with Nord and Imperial customs to shake it. He repeated the ritual with Willow.

Dad raised his face to the starry sky and shook his fist. “Yeah, you hear that dad? I didn’t even need a weapon to get what I wanted! Who cares about Jake the Warrior! I’m Jake the Negotiator!”



*********



Fox and Willow left early the next morning. They seemed much more tolerable once chastened by their experience, and Daria almost felt sorry for them as they left for Ebonheart, where the EEC kept its Vvardenfell District headquarters.

Dad was still riding high on his success the previous night. Not long after their guests departed, Daria confessed her involvement to him over a pot of trama root tea in the kitchen. She felt partially responsible for the confrontation. As much as she’d disliked the people involved, she didn’t want to be responsible for death or serious injury.

“I guess it was a little impulsive to help Kavon,” dad said. “But you couldn’t have known they’d go that far. Frankly, it was pretty damn unprofessional of Eydis to set up a competition like that!” He scowled and slammed his fist on the table.

“For what it’s worth dad, you did an impressive job last night.”

He grinned. “See? Your old dad isn’t so lame after all!”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He looked taken aback for a moment, and then laughed. “Let me tell you, Daria. Guild life wasn’t that great.”

“Does this mean mom won’t pressure me to intern at them any longer?”

“Most guilds are fine! And the Fighters Guild is important but, well, I never liked it. You know, the only reason I joined up was to get away from my dad. He was about to march me off to the War of Bend’r-Mahk, but I didn’t want to kill people. So I did the guild instead. Figured that’d still be a way to prove myself and I wouldn’t have to do much more than guard caravans or fight monsters.

“And I had some fun with Fox and Willow. But a lot of it really sucked. I killed some bandits. I don’t regret it. I mean, they were killers, too. That sort of thing sticks with you, though. I met mom not long after that and we decided to go our own way. Except I always wondered if I was a coward for doing that. Knew my old man wouldn’t approve of me going into business.

“But last night I realized I don’t need to kill my way into greatness! I can talk my way into it, instead! I like that a lot better. Because that way, no one has to die.”

“Except for that rat.”

“Well, yeah. Except for the rat. But J’dash killed him, not me. Anyway, I like being able to talk my way into greatness.”

“On that case, Balmora’s legalism and intrigue probably suit you perfectly,” Daria said.

“Hell yeah!”

He raised his clay teacup over the table, and Daria did the same, the vessels clinking against each other in a heartfelt toast.



The End

Musical Outro - In Love with the Eighties, by Relient K

The next few episodes are single-chapter entries. Short episodes like that generally grow scarcer as the series continues, but there are still some in the works.

Wow, Fox and Willow show their true colors. We knew they were self-centered moochers but now we can add mean spirited and spiteful to the list.

And Jake the Negotiator to the rescue! A masterful de-escalation of tensions between Dumb and Dumber. Jake is clearly a master of Speechcraft.

The best news of all though is the two moochers are gone. They give small canids and beautiful trees that symbolize fertility and new life bad names.

With this chapter, you did a fabulous job of crafting a rat hunting quest into a delightful story.

Trust Kavon to just throw the fat directly into the fire...

Wow, Fox is turning out to be a real dick.

Now this is poetic. It was J'dash who wound up killing the rat in the end. Not any of the people he had hired to do it.

Way to go Dad! He is showing what he does as a consultant, using his brain (and networking) to solve problems for his clients, rather than his fists. Unlike Fox and Willow, he grew up.

@Acadian - At least Fox and Willow aren't mooching off the Morgendorffers anymore. Instead, they're more deeply embedded within the Empire's corrupt extractive infrastructure in the form of the EEC. Victory!

Thanks, it was fun to put my own spin on the traditional rat quest.

@SubRosa - As J'dash knows well, sometimes to do the job right, you have to do it yourself.

Episode 11: Heathers

"What a splendid bunch."

Synda Grilvayn kept her eyes downcast as Serjo Nevena Ules glided past her and the other girls, all of them Dunmer.

"Off you go, then! Gather the heather by dusk's fading light, the flowers aflame shall keep our land bright," Nevana said, reciting the tradition’s age-old words.

"You honor us, Serjo Ules," the girls said in unison. Synda spoke the words with certainty; loud, but not so loud as to appear arrogant or brash. She knew that everyone watched and that everyone would be satisfied.

The girls filtered out from the tents around Ules Manor, set up for the great woman's 150th birthday, and onto the rolling hills of the Ascadian Isles. They split into groups of twos or threes, giggling and chattering as they searched the green lands for violet heather flowers, ready to pull them from the earth and ready them for the flame as their mothers and grandmothers had done before them.

Most of the girls here came from the plantations and manors all throughout the countryside, or from the teeming Hlaalu Canton of Vivec City. Synda's family was one of the few invited from Balmora. That they endured the rigors of such a long journey demonstrated the respect they held for Serjo Ules and Great House Hlaalu.

Likewise, with the Rowenis, who had brought their foolish daughter, Satheri, with them. Satheri stood on her own, her big watery eyes searching for a friend among her own kind, her hands nervously clutching her thick dark blue dress the way a child would.

The poor girl simply had no idea what to do. Hardly a surprise, given that she counted outlanders among her closest friends. But seeing the rest gathered in familiar cliques, Synda reasoned that she needed an ally.

"Satheri. Perhaps we should pool our resources and work together," Synda said. She did not use an honorific; the Grilvayns had less wealth than the Rowenis but more esteem.

"Oh! Thank you, Sera Grilvayn," Satheri stammered. "Um, you never talk to me at school—"

"Come now, Satheri. We are both from Balmora. The rest of these girls will never see us as being on their level."

"Yeah, it's kind of scary!"

"There's no need for fear. Come, let's gather up the heather."

They struck out on their own toward a ridge where tall grasses swayed in the breeze.

"I think I see some over there!" Satheri exclaimed, pointing at a bush covered with bright yellow blossoms. "Oh, wait. That doesn't look right."

Synda shook her head and frowned slightly in disappointment. "I see you lack familiarity with the flora of your homeland. Not surprising, given that your family must associate with outlanders. Look for violet flowers."

"Thank you. You're so smart," Satheri gushed. The sheer relief in her voice gave it a pathetic quality.

Synda doubted Satheri knew the origins of the heather-burning ritual. She decided to keep that knowledge to herself for the time being.

Satheri found a good collection a bit later, though only because Synda had guided them south toward the riverbank where she knew heather would grow. She stood by and let Satheri gather the blossoms, the girl giggling with delight as she pulled them from the ground.

"This is fun, Sera Grilvayn! Sometimes I wish I lived in a big manor here so I could go out and do this all the time. But I guess I like being in the city, too."

Synda listened as she plucked a few flowers of her own. She wished she could pull Satheri away from Balmora. Foolish young girls like her were too easily swayed by the lies of outlanders. In another life, Satheri could have come of age as a humble Hlaalu girl; one who lacked ambition, but able to support a husband who possessed that trait.

The Empire had taken that from Satheri.

"All Dunmer should know their traditions," Synda said.

Satheri paused from her labors. "Oh, I worship the Tribunal!"

"I would expect no less. But there is more to it than the Tribunal. Unfortunately, I think much of that is being lost."

"It's too bad, I guess." She said it utterly without conviction, her lament as fleeting as an Imperial fad.

Satheri had gathered a veritable panoply of heather by the time she finished, the flowers bursting from her cradled arms like a frozen firework.

"Come, let's return to the manor. I'm sure the others will be impressed," Synda said, speaking the words as an order.

"Thanks for the help, Sera Grilvayn. I wouldn't have found them without you."

"We Dunmer must look after each other."

"But those other girls are Dunmer, too."

Synda sighed, making sure she sounded a little exasperated. "Dunmer help other Dunmer. Each Great House helps its constituents. Each community helps those who are part of it, and so on and so forth. It's like sisterhood."

"You're so wise, Sera Grilvayn," Satheri said.

They walked back to Ules Manor as the first stars twinkled in the darkening eastern sky. Seeing the manor brought a swell of pride to Synda's heart: she loved the fine tents arrayed around the lavish adobe manse, and the crisp sound of Dunmer voices free of louche foreigners. Serjo Ules's sentiments about outlanders were well-known, and none had been invited to her birthday. Synda was surprised that Satheri's parents had been invited, given how closely they worked with the Empire. But wealth carried weight, as it must.

Synda's mother, Lynda, stood at the edge of the manor grounds. With her was Satheri's father, Vesleth, the two of them in quiet conversation until they took notice of the girls.

"Ah, Satheri!" said Vesleth. "I see you've already made a friend."

"Yes, father! Sera Grilvayn's been very kind." Satheri gave Synda a warm smile, which Synda returned with a barely detectable upturning of her lips. One should not be too open to an inferior, which Satheri had acknowledged herself as being through her behavior and word choice.

"We both go to Drenlyn but we, uh, never had the chance to talk before, I guess," Satheri continued. "I'm glad we did."

"Your family is always welcome at our house," Vesleth said to Lynda, bowing his head ever so slightly. The gesture of respect seemed sullied; Vesleth certainly capered before Imperials in the same way.

"The honor is ours, Sera Roweni," mother said.

"Looks like the bonfire is about to start. Seems our girls have gathered quite a lot!"

"Indeed. I must speak with Synda, a moment."

And the way she said that left no doubt that Synda had erred. A coldness gripped her heart, deeper than the chill of the autumn evening around her. Every action reflected on family, on great house, and on nation. Error meant shame a hundred times over.

Suddenly faint, Synda followed her mother to a secluded spot next to a leaning emperor parasol, the air beneath the cap smelling of fungal spores.

Mother stared down at her. "Serjo Ules's birthday brings notable young men and women from around Vvardenfell. I'm surprised you'd be so foolish as to befriend a rube like Satheri. Why not one of the Lleran girls? Or perhaps you could grab the attention of that Sandas boy so you can marry someone useful?"

Synda gulped. So much depended on her. Those families would all be strong allies for the Grilvayns. The Rowenis, for all their wealth, could never help that much. She searched for an excuse, her palms damp with sweat.

"I, uh, felt sorry for her, mother. I thought maybe I could turn her into, uh, an asset—"

Mother slapped her. The strike was light, but the sting struck deep. Synda hung her head in shame but held back her tears. Dunmer did not weep at hardship; mother had made this clear.

"Your father and I worked very hard to ensure this invitation and you have squandered it." Mother gave a frustrated sigh. "Go toss your heather into the flames. We'll discuss this later. Perhaps you can make up for your mistake tomorrow."

"Of course, mother."

Synda straightened herself as she and her mother returned to the party grounds, their faces betraying no emotion. Yet her mind tore at itself; she'd shown weakness. Many called Great House Hlaalu soft for how they traded with outlanders, but she knew that such business required strength. Strength to enrich oneself from foreigners without falling too deeply into their ways.

She could not afford another error.

Serjo Ules stood near the fire, her smile crooked. "Now, let the girls gather and give us light!" she proclaimed, her words running together as she raised her goblet above her, a bit of the drink within spilling over the edge.

The musicians began to play, a mix of heavy drums and ponderous bells held together by the strumming of carapace harps. None of the boastfulness of northern songs or the atonal bombast of Imperial music, the notes stately and spaced far apart.

Synda stood behind Satheri, the girl wearing a broad smile and sniffing the aroma of the heather blossoms she held. She'd gotten more than most. The line moved, each girl walking in tune with the music and tossing the flowers in the fire. Purple petals blackened and curled as the flames consumed them.

Satheri couldn't resist giving a little cheer as she flung her offering into the bonfire, some of the flowers fluttering off to the side. Synda followed, submitted her more humble offering, and joined Satheri at the edge of the fire's light.

"That was truly an impressive gesture," Synda said.

"Oh, thanks Sera Grilvayn! But it's because of you. Heh, I probably wouldn't have found anything if you hadn't guided me."

A dark joy stirred in Synda's heart. "Still, you gathered many flowers. It's especially surprising considering your father's business, and what the heather represents."

Satheri's smile faded. "Sorry? I don't understand what you mean."

"Well, your father works closely with the Empire, does he not? You yourself have many outlander friends."

"I mean, well, yeah. They're really nice though. I think you'd like them if you got to know—"

Synda did not let her finish. "You see, heather is not native to Morrowind."

"It's not?"

She shook her head. "No. It comes from Skyrim. It's a weed, Satheri."

"But it's so pretty!"

"A pretty weed is still a weed. Our ancestors burned heather because the weed symbolizes outlanders. We can use them for our purposes, to enrich ourselves and Great House Hlaalu, but they are a resource to be used. Nothing more. So it was very courageous of you to burn so many, considering who you spend time with. I’m glad to see your loyalties are with your people."

Satheri trembled. "Wait, you mean people will think—"

"You've shown that you don't need those outlanders you hang out with."

"But Muthsera Morgendorffer—I mean, Sera Morgendorffer—oh no!" Satheri's breath came in quick gasps, and she grabbed at her collar.

"Why are you so alarmed, Satheri?" Synda asked.

Satheri fell to her knees. Synda’s pity turned to disgust. How emotional. Much like an Imperial or a Nord.

"Oh my gosh, Synda, you can't tell Quinn I did this! I mean, I know it's important that I not get too close, but I really like her and she's my best friend and she makes me feel better and someday we’re going to go to like the Imperial City and—"

Synda wondered if the girl would pass out. She held out her hand to tell Satheri to stop, but she was already hyperventilating.

"You have nothing to be ashamed about, Satheri. With your father's business concerns being what they are, I can see why you'd not want people to know."

"So, you won't tell?" Satheri could barely get the words out.

"I can keep a secret, for now. Just remember who your true friends are. I will never judge you for burning some little flower."

Satheri was thick, but not so thick as to miss the implication.

"Thank you, Sera Grilvayn. Thank you. Truly."

Sera. Yet she'd called Quinn muthsera. Satheri might not have meant that as an insult, but it was one. Regardless, Synda had given Satheri a valuable lesson on how the world worked. The Dunmer valued such things, and perhaps one day Satheri could be a useful Dunmer.

Synda watched the sooty flames climb higher as the band played on, the ancient melody sounding across the ancient landscape. In truth, Quinn would not understand the symbolism of Satheri burning the heather, and neither would her father's business associates. Yes, heather symbolized outlanders, and had once served as a convenient effigy. Today it was mostly tradition, unmoored from the past.

Yet Synda knew there was value in the old traditions. The evening had proven it.


The End

Musical Outro - Heart of Stone, by The Raveonettes

Nevena Ules - Nevena is one of the local Councilors for Great House Hlaalu, so she's actually quite a big deal within their system.

150th birthday. That brings home the fact that elves age a lot slower that humans.

Synda is clearly a very arrogant, calculating, socially ruthless character here. Just like in the show. She's not making nice with Satheri, she's enlisting her to her cause to beef up her own presence among the Ascadian Islers.

Also, her xenophobia is on subtle, but clear display as well. Not to say imperial conquerors do not deserve it. But it still plainly marks her out from other Dunmer, especially Hlaalu ones, who have learned to work within the Imperial system, in spite of all the warts.

Wow, Mom shows where a lot of Synda's worst traits come from. Quite an ugly family.

A fascinating look into the muck-filled dumpster that is the mind of Synda. And she’s only a marginal Dunmer according to her piece of work mother. Synda’s mother sounds even more serious about ‘networking’ than Daria’s mom.

The lore you presented about the heather weed was very interesting and really brought the purpose of this ceremony to life.

I suspect Synda plans to use poor Satheri’s naivete and gullibility for some unpleasant strike against one or both of the Morgendorffer girls.

What a mess! So they've all shown up to pwn this rat, which is a no-show, so far!

Oh no! Kavon did NOT just say ... Ha, not that it matters. Neither of them exterminated the rat. 🐀 Wow, so dad managed to calm them all down. That's some good Speechcraft at work there.

Since a handshake might not be known to Dunmer, what would Kavon normally do while greeting?

Gotta get back to work. Catch up with Heathers later, or maybe tomorrow.

@SubRosa - I couldn't find a clear answer on how quickly Mer age compare to humans, so for the sake of my sanity, I assumed that Mer and Men age at more or less the same rate until they hit their early twenties. Granted, it might be interesting to have a fifty-year old Jane who's still effectively a teenager, but it just raised more headaches than I wanted to deal with. For what it's worth, I figure this version of Trent is in his early thirties.

Synda's a pretty dark character. As much as I love Morrowind, there's no question that the society in it is pretty dysfunctional, and her family displays a lot of the worst traits. She lives in a pressure cooker, and that will take its toll as the series progresses.

@Ascadian - You'll eventually see just how ruthless Synda's mother can be. Living up to that might not be so easy for Synda, in fact...

The stuff about the heather was my own idea, but it is the only (or one of the only) herbs in the base game to be an actual RL plant. Hence, it made sense to decide it's not native to Vvardenfell the way willow anther or stoneflowers are.

@Renee - Speechcraft is a pretty handy skill, even if Morrowind's persuasion system is... less than intuitive. Oblivion's was kind of complicated, but worked well enough once you figured it out.

A few stories mentioned that Dunmer bow, though typically not that deeply.

Episode 12: The Balmora Beat

It all came down to the uniform. They'd drilled that fact into Maiko's head since he'd been a raw recruit: anything you did for the legion had to be in legion colors.

Of course, there'd been some guys who did stupid things in legion colors. Most of them smartened up after the first flogging. As for Maiko, keeping his nose clean just came natural. Dad always said it was usually easier to follow the rules. Maiko hadn't always seen eye to eye with his dad, but the old man had been right about that.

Maiko was polishing the metal of his cuirass when Larrius Varro marched up to him that morning, the dawn no more than a bright sliver above the jagged eastern ridges.

"Agent Maiko," Varro said by way of greeting.

"Yes, sir!" Maiko stood and saluted.

"Go to Balmora today. You'll be paying your contacts a surprise visit."

"Understood, sir. Is there anything going on?"

Varro gave an arch smile. "That's what we're trying to find out! Speak to your liaisons in the Hlaalu constabulary but also get in touch with some of your... unofficial sources. Write a full report on the state of the city and have it on my desk by sun-up tomorrow. Should be routine."

Maiko saluted again. He always liked heading off to Balmora. Gave him a chance to get a feel for the city he protected, see who was who and what was what. Not to mention some extra time with Jolda.

Which meant his uniform had to be spotless.

It was a bit ridiculous, he thought as he marched out from Moonmoth Legion Fort in full array. Half the time the uniform made him feel more like an advertisement than a soldier. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe as long as the ads worked, he and his buddies wouldn't have to go into battle.

He'd seen battle once. Once was enough.



*********



Maiko's meeting with Captain Hleren Llarlo that day went exactly like all the others. They exchanged formalities, Hleren flattered him for a minute or so, and then reported that everything was fine.

Which was what Varro expected Hleren to report. The guy was a Hlaalu so he'd say anything to make other Hlaalu look good. Same as any other great house, or the legion itself for that matter. Boosting your boss was always part of the job. So Maiko nodded, said he was happy to hear that, and walked out of the guard precinct in search of more honest answers.

He could sort of get those from Kavon.

He found Kavon in his usual post atop one of the blocky towers that encircled High Town. The Dunmer guard slumped in a chair, dozing in the shade of a canvas tarp. He didn't hear Maiko open the trap door and clamber up from the ladder.

Maiko looked out onto the humming city before him. From up there, Balmora looked as tidy as a paper map, the streets straight and the houses clustered into neat squares. The Hlaalu had their problems, but they sure made their cities simple to navigate. Things only got complicated up close. But up on the tower, with a cool breeze chasing away the volcanic smog, it looked safe and understandable, a problem easy to solve.

"Oh, hey Maiko!"

He turned around to see Kavon waking up from his nap. Talking with the guy got annoying, but Maiko knew how to handle him.

"Hi, Kavon. Thought I'd check on you since I was in town."

Kavon yawned. "Cool. Hey, you guys hiring up in the legion?"

"Moonmoth's already got a full garrison. Someone told me that Fort Darius up in Gnisis is accepting recruits. Why, you planning on signing up?"

Might do Kavon some good, Maiko thought. Legion discipline worked wonders. On the other hand, it'd be easy for a guy like him to get in over his head. Crooked officers loved dumb rookies.

"I need more money, bro!" Kavon sighed. "I tried this thing with the Fighters Guild a month ago, but it didn't work out. And I gotta get something nice for my girl."

“Legion’s not your best bet if you just want more money. Commission’s eight years, minimum.”

“Aw, man!”

"What kinds of things does your girl like?" Maiko asked.

Maiko had gotten a little packet of Hammerfell spices for Jolda. She missed Hammerfell, and the smile she'd have on her face when he handed her a little piece of her homeland would make it all worthwhile.

"I dunno. Girl stuff."

"Such as?"

Kavon scratched his head. "Uh, like, dresses?"

"Any particular color?"

"I don't know that kind of thing, man!"

"You'd better start learning. But if you want something cheap, maybe some flowers? Saw a lot of stonepetals blooming on the way here."

"Huh, yeah that'll work until I can get something nicer. Like, uh..." he trailed off, lost in thought. "You think Briltasi would like a helmet?"

Maiko shrugged. "Only one way to find out. What kind of work did you try to do with the guild?"

"They wanted me to kill a rat out in Labor Town. But then some other guys tried to kill it and I kinda get confused on what happened after that."

So Labor Town still had a rat problem.

"You guys don't go down to Labor Town much," Maiko said.

"Nah. No need."

"But how do you know there's no need unless you go yourself?"

Kavon pulled back. "Hey, that's what my boss says! We're busy with the important stuff."

"Don't you live in Labor Town?"

"Yeah, but I spend most of my time up here. Or with my babe, you know?" Kavon chuckled. “Labor Town sucks, so why would I spend more time there?”

Varro worried that the lack of investment in Labor Town might lead to bigger problems down the line, and Maiko could see where he was coming from. This demanded a closer look.

But first, he wanted to pay Jolda a visit.



*********



Not even the most outlandish outlanders attracted much attention in the Lucky Lockup. It was one place in Balmora that visitors could call their own. Not that a stake in it meant much; most patrons drifted through like seeds on the wind, coming in and out on boat, on strider, and on foot.

Jolda reached out across the table and grasped Maiko's steel-clad left hand, her fingers running along the grooves in the metal.

"You know, I don't think you need to worry about the uniform here, Maiko," she said, a mischievous smile on her lips as she looked right into his eyes.

Maiko's mouth went dry. He still didn't know how he'd managed to get a girl as drop-dead gorgeous as Jolda. "Guess you're right," he said.

He glanced around one more time to be safe. Nobody here except bored traders and a few curiosity seekers. Low chance of danger. He unbuckled one gauntlet and then another, tension growing between his shoulder blades as he did.

"Wearing your uniform is part of the job!" echoed the voice of his old drill sergeant.

Putting the gauntlets on the side of the table, he took Jolda's hands into his own and lost himself in the sensation of skin on skin.

"Just how much of the uniform you want me to take off?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Jolda giggled, then smirked. "I think the gloves are good for now. As for the rest? We'll see what the future brings."

The future. How much of one did they have, anyway? Maybe it was best to leave that well enough alone for the time being.

"Have you told your dad about us?" he went ahead and asked, half-regretting it as soon as he opened his mouth but wanting an answer all the same.

Her hands stiffened. "Uh, I'm working on that."

"So no, in other words."

She shook her head, eyes downcast.

"It's okay."

"No, Maiko. It's not fair for you to feel like you have to hide this." She paused, as if concentrating. "I'm not worried that he'll say no. He likes you."

"Then what's the problem?"

She sighed. "It's hard to explain. I really like you, Maiko. But you're legion. I have no idea how long you'll be in the area. If my dad finds out I'm dating a soldier, he'll probably want us to marry."

"Okay, so we tie the knot, and you can go with me. Who knows where I'll be posted next? Could be the glitz and glamor of the Imperial City." He chuckled. "Or maybe some fort in the middle of Black Marsh."

"I want to go back to Hammerfell. I miss seeing other Redguards. And everything I'm learning here I can use back home."

"Yeah. Back home." Home for her, anyway. Maiko was Redguard by ethnicity, but he'd been born and raised outside the Imperial City. Never set foot in Hammerfell. He wouldn't mind going there. He'd also be okay with not going there. The legion was home for him, more or less.

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the buzz of conversation around them. Maiko took it all in out of habit: EEC caravanners here to pick up Caldera's ore and ship it elsewhere; saltrice and comberry merchants bringing in the goods from the Ascadian Isles; sharp-eyed traders in exotic wares fresh from Seyda Neen.

Business as usual in Balmora. Something else he could add to his report.

"Maiko?"

He'd drifted. "Sorry, Jolda. Uh, okay. You know, if I get to an officer rank, I can petition to be sent to Hammerfell."

"Will they honor that?"

"Maybe. It won't be up to me. But there'd be a chance."

Jolda sighed. "It's important to me. I never wanted to go to Morrowind. My dad's always talking about how I have to be a perfect citizen of the Empire here, both to impress the Imperials and to set a good example for the Dunmer. Not that most Dunmer even care. In Hammerfell, I could just be me."

Maiko nodded. "All I have to do is be a good soldier. Doesn't matter where in Tamriel I am. Guess that makes things simpler." Maiko wasn't so sure that was true, actually, but he didn't press the issue.

"How long do you think it'll take until you become an officer?" Jolda asked.

"A while."

She gave him a searching look. "How long is a while?"

"Couple years at least. It doesn’t matter how good you are: you don't get an officer's commission at my age."

"I know." She took her hands out from his, and then grabbed them, her fingers pressing into his flesh. "I guess we have to see how it goes."

"Should be good for a few more years," he said. "Varro and Radd both like having me around."

Although the truth was that if the legion wanted him elsewhere, they'd give him a few days' notice at most.



*********



The problem with the uniform was that nobody acted their honest selves when they knew a soldier was around. Maybe they'd get on their knees and praise him for being part of the thin line that defended Tamrielic civilization from chaos and barbarism. Maybe they'd clam up because they feared saying the wrong thing might bring the wrath of the legion down on the heads of them and their families.

But Maiko was only Maiko: a promising soldier, but not one with any real authority. He wouldn't be the one to decide where the legion held the line or where it pulled back. Not unless he made it to general, and that didn't look too likely. Generals didn't have to be of noble birth, but it sure helped.

The uniform spoke louder than him. This meant he had to earn people's trust to get any real info. Trick was to figure out some common ground. He usually found something.

Maiko walked through the afternoon bustle of Labor Town, on the edge of the Dyer's Square and its fumes. A rainbow of colors stained the flagstones as workers dipped cloths into big clay pots brimming with pungent dyes. The crowds gave way for him. More accurately, they gave way for his uniform.

Labor Town was rough by Balmora standards, but not too bad. It sure beat the slums of Dragonstar East back in the Reach, with its reeking mud streets and crumbling stone houses all cowering in the shadow of the jarl's castle. He'd learned a lot when his unit had been called to town during the riot. Some of it he didn't care to remember. But some of it proved useful.

He found his contact in an aimless little alley a block north, sitting cross legged on a filthy guar hide laden with charms of wood and bone. Dark eyes peered out from a face as round and pale as the moon, her shaggy black hair blending into her shapeless black robes.

"Droagach," he said, using the Reachman greeting.

Andra snorted. "Your accent still sucks. The way you say it makes it sound like you're coughing up your guts. After me: dro-a-gach."

He tried. The mixed d and t in the first phoneme always eluded him. Andra snickered.

"Sorry, but that's probably the best I can do. I'm Redguard, but my tongue's Imperial," Maiko said.

"Nah. You don't lie enough for that."

He laughed. "How's business?"

"It's okay. Temple priests haven't hassled me much lately."

Andra broke no law, but the Tribunal Temple didn't look fondly on good luck charms sold by outlanders.

"Good," Maiko said. "What about life in general?"

"It sucks. Things are breaking down here and no one's fixing them."

"Sounds familiar. I hear there's a rat problem?"

Andra nodded. "Yeah, a big one. Guards won't do anything and the Fighters Guild's too expensive for most of us. Though sometimes I can turn a problem into an asset." She pointed at a polished rat skull on her rug. "I decided it'd be a fertility charm, what with how rats breed."

"Good thinking. Are the rats attacking people?"

"Oh yeah. Pretty sure they killed Old Maba a week ago. Something ripped her throat out, anyway."

Worse than he'd expected. "I'll let my boss know. Anything else?"

"Been seeing rich Dunmer strut around at night. They talk to some of the young Dunmer toughs here. Might be Camonna Tong outsourcing their dirty work again, but I can't be sure."

"Okay." Maiko reached into his coin purse and took out a fistful of coins, which he handed to her.

"You want my rat skull?" Andra asked, her eyes suddenly big and wistful.

Maiko grinned. "Don't think I need a fertility charm. Not yet, anyway."

"Oh, come on, this is all junk. Only rubes think I sell real charms. I'd feel better if I were selling something for the money. Professional pride, you understand."

"Sure thing."

They made the exchange, Maiko putting the rat skull in one of his pouches. Thanking Andra, he set off on the long walk home.

Corruption, rat infestations, and organized crime: all pretty normal for Balmora. He'd put it down in his report and make his recommendation.

He hoped someone would let him do something about it.



The End

Musical Outro - Feels Like Summer, by Childish Gambino

Andrea (Andra) - Andrea's a goth supporting character in Daria who's quite well-liked by fans despite her scant lines (she has like four in the entire series). Given the presentation of the Reachmen, it seemed appropriate for the Morrowind version of her to be one.

An interesting day in Balmora, seen through the eyes of this young legion soldier. I really liked how you developed Maiko as every bit a soldier without falling into the trap of depicting him unidimensionally as just a walking set of legion armor. And you did so while paying full homage to the impression a legion soldier in uniform undoubtedly creates everywhere he goes. Yet, like any man, he has a history, wants, needs, fears, concerns. He does seem overall a good sort who is interested in both representing the legion well and trying to do some good. A very enjoyable read!

"Varro, bring me back my legions!"

Sorry, the ghost of Octavian took over my keyboard there...

"You think Briltasi would like a helmet?"
I do not think Britalsi would like a helmet. They give you helmet hair!

I liked the contrast you created between Jolda and Mack Maiko. They are both Redguards. They both process that very differently. And somehow I do not see Jolda being happy in some fort in the middle of Black Marsh...

I liked how you gave us a day in the life of an Imperial Legionary through Maiko's eyes, and how he navigated the various strata of Vvardenfell society. From the Hlaalu officer, to the schlubby guard like Kavon, to his girlfriend, to his grifter and underworld-adjacent contact. You create a picture of what Balmora is really like, in addition to the nice, pretty version that the postcards show.

@Acadian - Thanks! I mentioned earlier that these single-chapter entries become scarcer as the series continues, but I did realize they gave me a pretty good way of showing things from an alternate perspective. Satheri and Jeval each get a single-chapter episode, and Synda gets another as well (though her second is probably long enough that I'll have to split it).

@SubRosa- Ha! Those legions ain't coming back...

Briltasi wouldn't want the helmet hair. But as we saw in the paintball episode, Brittany can be a pretty formidable fighter with how able she disarmed Mr. DeMartino. So who knows?

Thanks! One thing I always kept in mind in writing this (or in writing anything, really) is that no two members of a group are ever the same. Granted, Jolda being born in Hammerfell and Maiko being Cyrodiilic is already a pretty big difference, but them being the same race (ethnicity?) won't lead them to have the same conclusions.

Mack also tended to get overlooked in the show. He doesn't play a big part in this series either, but I thought it would be nice to grant him some time in the spotlight. Armies and warriors are a big part of the fantasy genre, but usually in the context of war. I wanted to explore what life in peacetime would be like. Which, of course, also lets me give a broader picture of Balmora.

Episode 13: All the News That's Fit to Primp

Chapter 1


Sure, things did get all cold and gloomy in autumn, but that just meant it was time to buy an outfit with layers. And it’s not like Quinn had bought any new dresses (that second-hand one didn't count) since coming to Morrowind so she had to mix things up. Like always, fashion had a solution. She only needed a mantle to drape over her shoulders. That’d keep her warm and she was sure she could talk mom and dad into letting her buy a new dress (like actually new) for the Old Life Festival in a few months.

But no one ever said choosing the right mantle would be easy.

Quinn stood in front of table displaying the best moth-silk mantles at Kashad’s. The best mantles mom would give her money for, anyway. And it was definitely one of the more fashionable outlets on Silk-hawker’s Street, with clothes from some of the better mid-range moth farms back in Cyrodiil, like Tartus and Locutto Silks.

“Guys?” she asked. “Do you think I should get the blue Locutto or the white Tartus?”

Satheri was suddenly right next to Quinn, her eyes wide. “The blue looks cool.”

“Yeah, but my hair would really stand out against the white.”

Satheri pressed her hands into fists. “Oh, this is so tough. Tiphannia?”

But Tiphannia was lost in her own world, like always, staring at a see-through scarf.

“Tiphannia?” Quinn called.

“You can like see… right through this...” she said.

Quinn sighed. She loved Satheri and Tiphannia to death, but she was starting to think the Fashion Club needed more than three members. Sure, she knew what looked good and what looked lame, but it’d be nice to hear someone besides Satheri agree with her. Not that she didn’t value Satheri’s opinion. But Tiphannia just wasn’t all there.

She took a chance and went with the white mantle. If she was going to make a statement, it might as well be a statement. She put the mantle on after buying it and then headed out with her friends. There’d been a big rainstorm the other day, so they had to lift the hems of their dresses to avoid all the gross puddles.

“It’s so hard to know what to buy,” Satheri complained. “I’m still worried that the fabric I chose is too thin for this weather.”

“Lighter is better because you can always double-layer!” Quinn proclaimed, taking the wide way around a cart to avoid getting splashed.

“You’re so smart, Quinn!”

Quinn drew herself up. “I wish there was some way for us to tell everyone else what to buy to look their best. I mean, nobles get the most stylish stuff because they’re like nobles, but we can still help regular people look good.”

“But like… lots of people… wear whatever...” Tiphannia said.

“Exactly. And we can do something to fix that!”

They turned a corner and almost ran into a big crowd of people standing around the town crier. Dunmer like Satheri got all their news from each other, but outlanders like Quinn had to listen to whatever the criers were paid to talk about.

“… as of Fredas, honorable Bertrand Reauchamp will be retiring to Pelagiad with his wife and will pass his shop unto Clagius Clanler. This means there’s still time to take advantage of the going-away sale! Affordable work clothes, endurance potions, earthenware goods, and glassware will be even more affordable for the next few days.”

Outlander merchants always hired criers to let people know about sales. If she wanted to let everyone know about fashion—and maybe get a few more members in the club—why couldn’t she hire a crier of her own?

“Ladies,” Quinn said. “I just got the most wonderful idea.”



*********



Drenlyn Academy had tons of people. Quinn knew that not all—face it, hardly any—had the talent to be a good town crier. But there were plenty who wanted to try and impress her and that was always fun to watch.

She stood with Satheri and Tiphannia next to the library as the last few guys in line tried out. At first, she’d figured they’d pick someone with a nice voice or something, but when she thought about the crier she’d heard yesterday, she knew they needed someone who could put on a show.

“Hey, Quinn!” Jonus said, standing at the front of the line with his friends behind him. “I’m the best crier you’ll ever find.”

Everyone in the line cracked up, and Jonus blushed as red as his hair when he realized what he’d said. “I mean best town crier! I never cry with tears. Ever.”

“Pick me instead,” Julien pleaded from behind him.

“Guys, don’t rush me on this!" Quinn insisted. "One at a time. Jonus?”

“Uh, right.” Jonus cleared his throat. “Uh, hear ye! Hear ye! I’m the guy with all the news you could want. Like, uh…”

He was sweating, which was totally gross! The last thing the Fashion Club needed was a sweaty town crier.

“Next!” Quinn called out.

Jonus fell to his knees. “Wait! Give me one more chance,” he pleaded.

“I’m sorry, Jonus. But it wouldn’t be fair to all the other guys who want to try.”

“Out of the way, loser!” Julien said, pushing Jonus to the side. Julien posed like he was on stage or something. “Hear ye, hear ye! Julien here with the news to please ye!”

Ugh, he rhymed a word with itself? Not even the laziest bard would do that.

“Next!”

“Aw, come on! I got this whole rhyme thing—”

“If you keep going, I won’t give you the chance to help me the next time I do something.”

He hung his head low and wandered off to join the other losers. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Jervas!” she announced, calling up the next guy.

“Jeval,” he corrected. “Uh, hey, Quinn,” he said, “so are you paying us for this?”

“Of course. I’m paying you with the chance to hang out with me.”

“And the rest of the Fashion Club,” Satheri added.

Jeval shook his head. “I mean with money. Since we’re doing a job we oughta get some, you know, cash.”

“Oh, well you’ll get lots of experience that you can use if you ever want to do it, like, for real," Quinn said.

“Think I’m going to pass, then.”

That was not the answer she’d expected. But Jeval had already wandered off to join his buddies, who were making fun of him.

“You idiot!” Julien said. “Quinn’s not going to pay with money.”

“Why do you care? Me getting the job won't give you a chance with her,” Jeval protested.

Jonus stepped in. “Yeah, but at least one of us could have gotten in. And then helped out his bros.”

“Whatever," Jeval said. "If you’re good at something, don’t do it for free.”

Quinn took another look at Jeval. Was he actually good at this? Next in line was…

“Oh, gross,” she whispered. Karl the Unctuous stood at the front, with that icky grin stretched across his face.

He stepped up without being invited, which was so like him, and then bowed which might have been nice from someone who could make it look courtly. Karl was way overdressed for the part, with an orange silk frock coat so bright that it hurt to look at.

“Make it quick, Karl,” she said.

He straightened up, put one hand on his chest and pointed his nose in the air. “Hear ye, hear ye! Are you struggling to decide on autumn colors suitable for this drear land? Do you fear your silks are so last decade? Fret not, for you will find the answer at the fashion event of a lifetime, the opportunity of a century, where Quinn Morgendorffer, maiden of reputation most sterling and the scarlet-crowned queen of the sartorial realm, shall be sharing her wisdom on the best fabrics, dyes, cuts, and styles for comely young women like yourself.”

Wow. One of the key things about being popular was not to get impressed too easily. But he’d made it sound exciting. She looked to Satheri, then to Tiphannia who was staring at herself in a mirror, and then back to Satheri.

“A moment,” she said to Karl, holding out her hand. Then she whispered. “Do you think he’s going to be a creep if we hire him?”

Satheri shrugged. “He did a good job. Maybe if we tell him to behave himself?”

“Karl, did you make that all up on the spot?” Quinn asked.

“Extemporaneity is one of my many virtues, dear lady. Though some find my vices more interesting,” he added in a lower tone.

This was tough. Everyone hated Karl and for good reason. But no one else came close.

“All right, Karl, but if you get the job you have to promise not to be a creep or a loser or anything. There are rules here.”

He grinned and leaned in so close she could see all his gross pores and smell his breath. “Ooh, you’re feisty!”

That made her decision way easier. “And you just lost the job.”

Karl blinked, and then stepped aside.

Quinn wanted to get the ball rolling and she did not have time to go through the rest. “Jeval! You said you’re good at this, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” He cleared his throat, then spoke: “Do you want to look your best this season? Quinn Morgendorffer can tell you how!”

Okay, it wasn’t terrible. Not as good as Karl’s but at least he said it like he meant it. Satheri seemed all right with him, going by the expression on her face.

“Fine, you can be our crier. And I’ll pay you two septims every time you announce something.”

“Cool!” he said, as his friends wailed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Uh, that’s your job.”

“Yeah, but I gotta know what you’re planning. So I can tailor the message.”

“That’s easy,” Quinn said. “We’ll be talking about fashion, duh!”

“And? Like are you going to talk about dresses? Accessories? Dyes? Trends?”

“Uh, all of that. Maybe?” But Quinn realized she had no idea.

Ugh, who thought that advertising would be so much work!


Musical Outro - Mambo No. 5, by Lou Bega

Satheri might be a little color blind. But Heathers is different from the others right away. Sort of more ... I don't know, mysterious? What is this heather ritual? For some reason I feel like something bad's gonna happen.

Louche... new word for me.

So it's autumn now, in this chapter. It was summer in previous chapters, right? Therefore a bit of time has passed by? Heh, maybe I'm wrong, and it's just been a hot autumn in Vvardenfell. Sorry, I get obsessed with the passage of time in some stories.

Uh oh. What's going to happen to Synda? What's happening to Satheri? Seems like she's got a spell cast on her as she struggles to breathe.

Pretty disturbing chapter, I'm bummed. The Raveonettes is a band I'm not familiar with though. Really like this song.



Speechcraft is Hard in Morrowind! There's even a warning about NOT trying to use it as we start the game. Therefore, dad seems as though he's at least rather good at it.

Oblivion's system (with the mini game) is pretty clunky and makes no logical sense, but at least we can take a shot at influencing pretty much anybody in Cyrodiil, you know what I mean? Depending on the person we're playing, we can make people like or hate us. Yes, I had a few characters who wanted to be hated! 🎃 We can make this happen in OB. I'd rather have this than nothing random or variable at all (as in Skyrim).


The part in the next chapter when it says "the Hlaalu made their towns easy to navigate..." Huh. Very true, in fact. I'm not so familiar with Telvanni yet, but Redoran locations (Ald-ruhn, for instance. Ald Velothi, too) do tend to meander. Not as organized. Again, never really realized this until now.




Joan just went through all of this!

Maiko buys the rat skull. Maybe he will need it somehow.

Holy [censored] am I caught up? I am! Sweet!

Wait. . . Quinn is wearing white after Witches Festival?

Another delightfully chuckle-inducing jaunt into the mind of Quinn. This time she hits upon the idea of using advertising to increase the size of the Quinn Fan Club Fashion Club. Urgh, why did the best orator have to be a creep and the second best actually want to be paid – like in real gold? Then her choice had the audacity to pass half the work back to Quinn by asking her for details!

A grueling task is set before Quinn. Blue Locutto or the white Tartus? I wonder how Saint Alessia would have faced such a terrible conundrum?

So that is how it became Clagius Clanler's shop! Neat.

Oh boy, Quinn is going to dip her toes into advertising! TBH, I would think her dad could be a lot of help with that.

Since they are hiring their own, I suggest Karl the Unctuous. He has a way of getting attention - unwanted and unpleasant - but attention nonetheless...

And there he is! As I thought, he is the man for the job. And he did not waste any time in being unpleasant either and losing it! Fiesty!

@Renee - Yup, it's autumn. I also like dealing with the passage of time, so that factors into the series. It takes place across two and a half years, more or less (excluding the epilogue).

Synda's a toxic person. The pressure cooker environment in which she grew up isn't an excuse for this... but it does explain a lot of it. Being a good person isn't easy when one's parents actively discourage it.

Speechcraft is such a pain! It's so unintuitive, too. Oblivion's approach also feels a bit odd, but at least you have some input on the result so it's definitely an improvement.

Unfortunately, you aren't quite caught up. I think I posted the next entry as you were writing this one.

The Raveonettes were bigger in the '00s, I think. A little after Daria, the show's, time, but whatever. They actually feature in the episode I'm about to post, though this song is a cover of an older Stone Roses song.

@Acadian -

It's easy to say you'd be a good boss. But not so easy to actually be one, as Quinn is learning here.

@SubRosa - Saint Alessia might pick blue, since she could toss it over Pelinal's helmet in hopes that the colors would soothe him.

Heh, glad you caught the bit about Clanler. He's a relatively new owner by the game's time.

Karl's (Upchuck's) worst enemy has always been himself.

Episode 13: All the News That's Fit to Primp

Chapter 2

Bad poets (and some good ones, to be fair) loved to pontificate on the seasons, autumn especially. But this usually meant autumn in High Rock, where the leaves lit up in blazing reds and yellows before moldering on the loamy ground below. Autumn in Morrowind’s Vvardenfell District, however, meant little more than the smell of damp ash and the sight of gray clouds above brown hills.

Not that this meant too much to Daria. Her childhood home of Stirk barely had seasons at all, blessed by genial sunshine year-round. Balmora’s bleak fall weather appealed to her, particularly the rain that always washed a bit of adobe into the streets, reminding the city that nature still ruled.

Looking out the window to the dark clouds roiling above High Town’s haughty manors, Daria smiled and then turned her attention back to her essay on Imperial governance in Morrowind. Thunder pealed somewhere in the distance as she wrote, followed soon after by the steady patter of light rain.

Not wanting to get her essay wet, she closed the shutters and lit a second candle. It wasn't often that she got to write on a somewhat interesting subject in a pleasantly gloomy environment.

“Not bad for a Middas afternoon,” she said.

“Ugh, are you kidding me? It should be sunny so people can like do things,” came Quinn’s voice from behind her.

“Clearly, I spoke too soon.”

Quinn walked over to her bed and put her bookbag on the mattress before sighing and opening up her wardrobe. Daria watched out of the corner of her eye as her sister took out one dress, and then another, her brow knitted in frustration.

“What’s going on?” Daria asked. “Can’t figure out which color goes best with a tramp through the rain?”

“For your information—hey! Wait a minute.”

Daria tensed up. She did not care for the tone in Quinn’s voice. It was the tone she used whenever she got excited about some ridiculous triviality and begged mom or dad for some extra money to fritter away.

“You’re a writer, right?” Quinn asked.

“No. While I appear to be writing an essay it’s actually an elaborate ruse concocted by mom and dad to maintain the illusion that they have a literate daughter.”

“Uh huh. So tell me what would you write if you wanted to like, I don’t know, get people involved in fashion?”

Daria sighed and put her quill back in the inkwell. “Okay, out with it. What do you want?”

Quinn gasped and drew back, hand on chest for melodramatic effect. “Can’t I be curious about what my own sister gets up to?”

“No, because you know as well as I do that I’m boring. Get to the damn point.”

She resumed her normal posture. “Okay, fine! So, me and the Fashion Club thought it’d be a good idea to have like a town crier, but just for the Fashion Club things. We hired Jeval—”

“Wait, you spent real money?”

“It was either him or Karl, and even though Karl’s good at speaking he’s still a creep, so we went with Jeval! Anyway, we got him to do the job but now I have to figure out what kind of event to do so that people know how great we are! Not that they don’t already.”

“Forget it.”

Quinn raised her eyes heavenward. “What’s a girl to do, Daria?”

“This girl,” Daria pointed at herself, “doesn’t care, and isn’t going to do anything.”

“Come on!”

“What do you want me to do, anyway? I don’t know anything about fashion.”

“Yeah, but you’re like really smart and a writer and stuff. I’m sure you could figure out something for us to do.”

“Why would I do that when I could watch you stew in the mess you created?”

“I’ll pay you.”

“Hm, well that’s different. How much are you paying Jeval?”

“Uh, half a septim for each announcement.”

Daria thought about it for a moment. “Pay me four times what you pay him, per session.”

Quinn gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. So tell me, consultant, what should I do?”

Daria pushed her essay aside and opened the window back up to observe the fall of rain.

“First, why do you want a Fashion Club crier? Other than for the attention fix.”

“Because we’re only like, three girls! If we ever want to make it big, like you know, for a guild or something, we need to get more attention. We need people to know that we know everything about fashion.”

“I see.” Daria turned to face Quinn. “On that case, you need to offer some kind of expertise. Can’t you natter to them about dresses the way you do with your friends?”

“I can, but the thing is Satheri and Tiphannia are just so nice, you know? Like they always want to support me, and I love that. But sometimes I worry that maybe I’m making a mistake in picking out a pattern or fabric and they’re too nice to tell me I’m messing up.”

That got Daria’s attention. Every now and then, Quinn showed actual depth. She hoped it didn’t last; otherwise, she might have to start respecting her sister.

“Sounds to me like you need to enlarge the Fashion Club,” she said.

“Maybe I could have Jeval say we’re going to have tryouts or something.”

Would it actually work that way? The vagaries of popularity eluded Daria, but while Quinn always had a line of lovelorn guys trailing after her (and always kept at a convenient distance) she didn’t seem to have many close friends beyond Satheri and maybe Tiphannia.

Sort of like how Daria didn’t have any friends beyond Jane and maybe Jolda.

She decided not to pursue that line of thought. “Might be worth a shot.”

“But wait,” Quinn said, “People won’t want to join the Fashion Club unless we get our name out there first. Sure, they know what the Fashion Club is, but I need to make them care about it. How do I do that?”

“Uh, give a fashion advice seminar?” Daria had no idea, but she’d talk as long as she was getting paid.

“Hold on, Daria, did you make any friends at that Mages Guild thingie? Because if you did, you could ask him to teleport over to the Imperial City and find out what’s in vogue—”

“Since when do I make friends?”

“Oh, right. Ugh, I need to figure out how to get in touch with what’s going on over there! Or at least some other fashionable place. Maybe Vivec City? That’s a lot closer. Let me think. Autumn’s all about accessories, so the Fashion Club can give advice on that. I know, we can give personalized advice on what kinds of accessories go best with what people like to wear!”

“Listening to that sounds like torture to me, which means it’ll probably be a big hit with everyone else.”

“You know, Daria, a sash would go really well with your dress. You could do a brighter color, ‘cause you’re totally skinny enough—”

“Stop. Or I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

Quinn waved her hand. “Fine, fine. Anyway, I think that’s a great start. Hey, wait a second! All you did was like, ask questions and prompt me and stuff. I came up with all the ideas! Coming up with ideas was your job!”

Daria smirked. “What can I say? Consultancy’s a pretty good racket.”

Musical Outro - I Wanna Be Adored, covered by the Raveonettes, originally by the Stone Roses

This episode really highlighted the natures of both Daria and Quinn.

I see that Daria masterfully played her sister here, even earning some gold for her trouble. That said, I expect the result of the two sisters (gasp) working together will be positive for the Fashion Club.

Daria’s right that consulting is a pretty good racket. And being a fashion consultant would be right up Quinn’s alley. . . .

I have to remind myself that Daria's home on the Gold Coast means that she is from Southern California. Morrowind being Morrowind, I would imagine that instead of summers and winters it might have a wet season and a dry season instead. Given its location on the coast, maybe even a monsoon season. Though that might be more of the thing farther south in Argonia.

Daria's elaborate ruse shows that she is indeed, a literate daughter. Even if a boring one.

Uh oh, Quinn is showing depth. Better pull out a lead line and take a sounding...

Daria's musings on both her own and Quinn's relatively small, tightly knit social circles reveals one of those ways in which the two sisters are alike. Better not think about that too hard though, or I might start to feel empathy for Quinn...

Turns out Daria is a chip of Dad's block all along. Consultantcy is a good racket after all.

Ha ha yup, looks like I wasn't as caught up as I thought!

I actually enjoy Speechcraft in Morrowind; especially as Joan's getting better at it. Whenever we get the Admire Success message it's like a drug-bump to me, whee. Of course it helps she's got Speech as a Major skill.

Quinn wants a moth-silk mantle she can wear. Yikes that sounds yucky!!! Then again, isn't real silk made from worms? Yeah it is. Puts things in perspective, then.

Tiphannia is cute. Whoa.. Wait, Fashion Club? This chapter's awesome. Oh man... they are trying not to step into all the "gross" puddles of water! Stop it! ... I'[m about to die with laugher over here, Clav!

Cool, I like that crier idea. Mm.. Wonder what Quinn's thought is. Probably there'll be some hot threads to wear at this estate sale.



Oh my gosh! Too bad too, because I really like the way Karl enunciated his praise toward Quinn.

Episode 13 now. Yeah, you really nail the way Daria talks. That's exactly something she would say on the show. The dichotomy between the two sisters is great, too.

You know, as shallow and impertinent as Quinn can be, she does have a good inkling of business sense going on. She's a user of people for sure, but at least she's trying to offer up some sort of compensation from her otherwise vapid brain. It's as if she wants to help people ... to look their best. Or something.

I remember the Stone Roses. Weren't around for long, but they were popular during the late 80s/early 90s if I recall. I really like the Ravonettes version of this song.

@Acadian - Daria and Quinn played each other a bit. When Daria asks Quinn how much she's paying Jeval, Quinn lies and says half a septim. In actuality, as Chapter 1 shows, she's paying Jeval two septims! Of course, I don't think Daria's quite cruel enough to demand eight septims for this service (she'd probably draw the line at six), but Quinn definitely saved herself some money this way.

@SubRosa - Tamrielic climatology is a real can of worms, mostly because there's not any great way for it to make sense. For instance, Morrowind's on the same latitude as Skyrim and High Rock, but appears to be much warmer. I'm going by Project Tamriel's version of the setting, which generally seems to assume that Tamriel is farther south than it is in the games. This is why Cyrodiil's interior is tropical. As I recall, they explain Skyrim's snow being partly a result of higher altitude.

Even this runs into issues though. For instance, I'm not sure if you can have a Mediterranean climate like the Gold Coast's on the same latitude (and also relatively close) to the jungles of the interior. At a certain point, you just have to shrug and roll with it.

As for Vvardenfell, I envisioned it as being on the warmer side overall. Snow can fall (and actually will in a few episodes' time), but it's rare and doesn't last long. Winters usually get rain, though not heavy enough to qualify as a monsoon.

Quinn's kind of an interesting case in the show. She's clearly popular (and probably the only Fashion Club member who could make a claim for being popular), but she keeps people at arm's length. I'd argue that Daria's a lot closer with Jane than Quinn is with anyone, and I think that's true in both the show and in this series.

@Renee - I can see that. It is satisfying when it works. Kind of like rolling a critical hit.

Karl's counterpart in the TV series, Upchuck, is a teenager who's quite intelligent, knows how to dee-jay, is an eloquent and enthusiastic announcer, and somehow learned how to play the mandolin! He's one of the more interesting people in Lawndale High. But everyone hates him because he refuses to drop his creepy lecher persona (if he did, he'd have a decent chance of getting a girlfriend). He's truly his own worst enemy, and that's still the case here.

Quinn knows how to read people. And like you say, she is using them. Not maliciously, but you could read her as having a certain coldness in how she operates. It's a bit like what I was saying in my comment to SubRosa above: she doesn't let people too close. Maybe this is because she's afraid they won't like her. Or, maybe, it's because keeping them at a distance makes it easier for her to get them to do what she wants.

Quinn's actually one of the most dynamic characters in the Daria TV show (one might argue even more so than Daria herself). Unfortunately, I didn't give her the same level of development in this fic series. I'll admit that I find Quinn a bit harder to write than most of the other characters, though she's quite fun when I manage to pull it off.

Episode 13: All the News That's Fit to Primp

Chapter 3

Quinn thought she’d die when the first ever Fashion Club seminar opened up on Fredas afternoon to an audience of nobody.

“This is terrible!” Satheri sobbed, next to her.

“There’s… no one… listening...” Tiphannia drawled.

It’s not like there weren’t people around. But practically everyone was jammed up at the gate, trying to get out. No one listened to Quinn. This was so embarrassing. She glared at Jeval.

“You needed to make it sound more exciting! And go into the details,” she said.

Quinn wasn’t so sure Jeval’s pitch had been all that great. Style changes with the weather, and you don’t want to be left behind! Quinn Morgendorffer of the Fashion Club has the lowdown on what to wear this autumn!

It got the information across but was boring, like something a teacher would say.

“I don’t know anything about fashion,” Jeval said. “But I can try a different pitch next week. You gotta remember though: Fredas afternoon is a bad time for a seminar. Everyone wants to get out of Drenlyn and hang out with their friends.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Quinn demanded.

“I did!”

“I know, but you didn’t convince me. Hmm, okay, so maybe Fredas isn’t the best day. Girls!”

Satheri raised her face from her hands, her eyes filled with tears. At least her eyes were naturally red, so she didn’t have to worry about them getting all bloodshot and gross after crying. Tiphannia had her usual blank look.

“The problem here is not that we aren’t popular or that people don’t want to listen to us," Quinn announced.

“It… it isn’t?” Satheri said between sobs.

“Not at all. But you have to remember that the people who care about fashion are also people who are like popular, and stuff. Which means they’ve got their own things going on after school on Fredas. It’s just like, bad timing.”

“That’s a relief,” Satheri said, still looking like she was going to cry again.

“When are we… going to do… with the…” Tiphannia started.

“The seminar?” Quinn finished, because sometimes it was such a pain waiting for Tiphannia to get to the end of a sentence. “Good question.”

“What about after school on Morndas?” Satheri suggested.

Maybe. Except Jeval was right. Drenlyn was boring and no one wanted to stay longer than they had to. “I think lunch might be better. We’ll get more of an audience that way.”

Satheri’s eyes got big. “But lunch is when I re-apply my makeup and that can take a long time!”

“Uh, can I say something?” Jeval said.

“You may.”

“People aren’t going to come unless I hype it up, and I won’t have enough time to do that by Morndas. Give me a couple days. Do it at lunch on Middas, instead. I’ll run some new copy by you, but you’ll need to help me if you want me to be more specific and stuff.”

Huh, that actually made sense. It also meant she’d have to pay Jeval way more if he was going to announce each day. Between him and Daria she was already cutting into her fund for a new hat!

“Okay, fine," Quinn said. "We’ll try this again next week. For now, let’s be like the popular people we are and go do something fun!”

Fun things also cost money. But it’s not like she could stop now.



*********



Stress was like the worst thing that could happen to Quinn’s pores! It had gotten so bad since the failed seminar that it almost hurt to look in the mirror. She could see them, like a gross version of freckles all over her face.

But if that’s the price she had to pay to get the Fashion Club the recognition it deserved, she’d just have to buy extra lotions and ointments.

At least Jeval had been doing a pretty good job. She checked in on him as he called out to the crowd during lunch and after school.

“Come one, come all, to the Fashion Club Autumn Style Seminar this Middas at noon! Worried that your frills make your wrists look fat? Not sure if that Colovian fur hat really works in Morrowind? Get those questions answered and more this Middas, courtesy of the Fashion Club!” he called out.

He sounded interested and his voice carried. Definitely enough to get attention.

But not to keep it! Everyone still walked past him, except for one or two of the unfashionable girls who were super-insecure all the time. The Fashion Club needed to get the attention of popular people like Agrippina or Sephannia.

That meant more work for Quinn. She didn’t have class on Tirdas but she went to Drenlyn anyway and spent all afternoon talking to the kinds of outlander girls people wanted to hang out with. She had Satheri do the same for Dunmer girls.

“Anyway, we’re going to have like this big thing tomorrow at lunch. Everyone knows that autumn’s a great time for accessories but there are so many that it can be hard to choose!” Quinn said to the more popular outlanders in Ondryn’s class.

“Ugh, I know!” Agrippina said. “I still can’t decide if I should go with some new tippets for my sleeves, or a new belt.”

“Well tippets—” Quinn started.

But wait! She couldn’t give all her secrets away now! She had to save some for tomorrow. “Well tippets are totally something we’ll be talking about.”

They seemed pretty interested. But what if they didn’t show up? What if it ended up being her and Satheri and Tiphannia in front of a big empty space where no one paid attention to them?

Quinn closed her eyes. “Think positive thoughts. You got this.”

She hoped.



*********



Satheri saw Serjo Briltasi Talori leaving school that day and breathed in. The Talori family was a noble one. But Satheri’s dad had an important job as a Hlaalu-Empire liaison, and that meant the Rowenis were still a big deal. Plus, Serjo Talori liked outlanders and her stepmom was one, so she’d probably be okay with going to the seminar.

Probably.

“Serjo Talori!” Satheri called out. “Forgive my intrusion, but I humbly ask for your attention.”

“Huh? Oh, hi Satheri!” Serjo Talori smiled and gave a little wave and Satheri relaxed. Serjo Talori didn't always know how to act like a noble, but Satheri kind of liked that about her.

“Thank you, Serjo Talori.” Satheri gathered her thoughts. Might sound weird if she were too formal. “Uh, so Sera Morgendorffer is going to be holding a fashion seminar this Middas.”

Serjo Talori twirled one of her ponytails around her index finger. “Yeah, I heard that Bosmer guy talking about it. Jerain, I think?”

“Juvval,” Satheri corrected, and then smiled. “You’re already like, super-fashionable. But we’d love to have you in the audience! If you’re there, then you can make a strong impression on some of the families of the other Dunmer students in attendance.”

“Hmm,” she turned her head askance. “I was going to ditch school. But that sounds like it might be fun. Okay!”

Satheri inclined her head. “Thank you so much, honored Serjo Talori. Sera Morgendorffer and I are grateful.”

“Sure thing!”

Satheri breathed a sigh of relief. That had gone well. She always knew exactly where she stood when she talked to other Dunmer. Outlanders were more complicated. Muthsera Morgendorffer obviously had seniority in the Fashion Club, but Satheri wasn’t always sure where she stood in relation to Tiphannia. That scared her since she didn’t want to be second-best in Quinn’s eyes.

Quinn made everything scary, but she also made them fun. Satheri only had a few more years before mom and dad would send her to her husband-to-be in the red cliffs and yellow fungal forests of Shipal-Shin, hundreds of miles to the south. Which would be wonderful! He’d protect Satheri, and love her and make her a full part of Great House Hlaalu and she’d be happy there, finally, because she’d have a place.

But she wanted to have fun for a little longer.

Nidrene Serlo walked past. The Serlos weren’t that notable of a family, but her dad did work for Synda’s mom, so Satheri still needed to be respectful.

“Sera Serlo,” she said, walking toward Nidrene with her head held high (since she had to uphold her own family’s reputation, and they were more respectable at least by a little bit), “I’d like to talk with you for a second…”

Musical Outro - Notorious, by Duran Duran

Yes, that's a good way to put it about Quinn. She's not malicious. But she has the makings of somebody who is ... hmm... unconcerned with the feelings / motivations of others, I guess. But this is correct. It's the way of the mall princess, in many cases.



Yes, and this makes her come across as stuck up. I'm not sure where you are from, but on the east coast that's the term we'd use. She's "stuck on herself", sort of like being a snob, I guess.

No, you're doing just fine getting into Quinn's head. You are quite good at writing her, actually.

But oh no. Nobody showed up for the Fashion Club? Satheri is crying. Quinn's worried (again) about her skin pores. These poor fashionistas!

Jeval is doing his job as a crier, I can see. Man, I actually hope some people show up. I actually care about Quinn's shallow plight! ... Where is Quinn getting all this money, by the way?

Duran Duran, love them, too. The Reflex is my fave. They are just good, catchy music, with a lot of moving parts, a lot of different sounds to listen to and notice at once.

Aww, the Fashion Club opens to an empty venue.

I’ll give Quinn credit for both optimism and displaying some leadership as she bucks up the spirits of her dejected crew, heeds some advice from her crier and quickly fashions a new plan - even if it means dipping into her new hat fund and less than perfect pores.

And with your use of ‘tippets’ I learned a new word.

Let us hope that opening number two goes better – or at least has an audience.

Quinn is not only popular, but "Popular", which means she does not have friends, but frenemies. In the show none of her friends really see her for who she is, each of them is just using her in some way. In the case of Sandi it is in an extremely antagonistic and competitive way. But with the others it is not great either. Stacy is the kindest, but she is so crippled by her deep-seated feelings of insecurity that she needs Quinn to essentially validate her existence nearly every second of the day. While Tiffany gives a whole new meaning to self-absorption.

Daria does not have many friends, but at least her friends actually know her, and like in spite of that! Perhaps even because of it! In spite of being a misanthrope, Daria has real relationships with people. Quinn just has scenery around her that changes from one moment to the next.

Well if at first you don't succeed, try again on Middas.

I really do love how you can shift gears from writing Daria to Quinn's POVs. You change so much in your writing style and word choices to get across how drastically different each of them think and see the world.

Oh, so that thing is called tippets? I have seen them all my life in medieval era movies, but never knew what those were called.

@Renee - Yup, I think you're right.

In the show, Quinn's pretty good at leveraging money from her parents. Probably helps that Daria doesn't ask for cash all that often.

Duran Duran is classic for a reason!

@Acadian - Part of what I wanted to show here is that Quinn actually does have the makings of a good leader. She's able to inspire others while (usually) staying cool enough to make good decisions. Of course, her clique is quite tiny. And, as she pointed out to Daria, Satheri and Tiphannia can't always be relied upon to offer useful feedback.

I had to look up some medieval accessories, and tippets seemed like the best fit for the situation.

@SubRosa - The Fashion Club in Balmora is pretty different from its Lawndale counterpart, and the biggest reason for that is probably Sandi's absence. Here, Quinn's in charge. There's no competition. Which means her biggest challenge isn't trying to come into her own, but learning how to be a more responsible leader. This particular episode shows some of how she becomes one.

Thanks! I try to have the POV reflect the character in question. It's challenging to do this for Quinn, but one advantage is that she has a very distinct voice (at least compared to Daria).

Episode 13: All the News That's Fit to Primp

Chapter 4

This was it!

Okay, Quinn knew how to handle crowds. Sure, it was kind of scary when you saw a whole bunch of people all looking at you and ready to judge even the littlest mistake, but wasn’t that life in general?

Thank the Divines it wasn’t raining. The Middas noon was bright and cool with a few cute little clouds way up high in the sky. Thanks to Jeval’s town crying, Daria’s advice, and her talking to the right people, they had a crowd. The Fashion Club stood under the big mushroom in the middle of the courtyard, ready to give everyone the real lowdown on style.

Most of the people were popular outlander girls like her, but Satheri had brought in some Dunmer girls too. Some unpopular people showed up, like always. Daria and Jane watched from a distance, probably making some weird brainy comments. Whatever.

Synda also watched with a few of her creepy friends over by Lli’s office. Ugh, Quinn had tried to be nice to her. She still didn’t get exactly what had happened between them, but they were definitely enemies now.

Quinn smoothed her long hair, acting like nothing bothered her at all, and stepped out to the front.

“Welcome, everybody! I’m so glad you could all make it to the First Fashion Club Style Seminar! Today, we’re going to talk about autumn fashion. Now I’ve always said that autumn is the season for accessories, but which one? There are so many.”

She heard a bunch of “yeahs” and “oh, I knows” from the crowd. Good sign!

And now what? Her breath caught. She’d been so focused on getting things ready that she hadn’t prepped a speech. Like she thought it’d just come to her since she knew so much. But that was the problem! There was tons to talk about. She had to prove herself to these girls! It wasn’t like Satheri who’d always agree, or Tiphannia who never said anything.

“Uh…” she trailed off.

She couldn’t lose now. Not in front of everyone. Not with Synda watching and waiting for a mistake. But what to start with? Belts? Hats? Jewelry?

If the gods wanted to strike her with lightning, this would be a great time.

Or maybe the crowd could help.

“Let’s start with some questions!” Quinn announced, clapping her hands together.

Silence. Only silence.

“Anyone?”

“Yes! I have a question.”

Oh no. The girl asking was Treads-on-Ferns, the one Argonian in Drenlyn. Quinn panicked. She knew everything about fashion, but only for human and elven girls. She didn’t know how to accessorize for someone who had scales, claws, and a tail. Quinn always fell back on telling people to get hair pins when she couldn’t figure out anything else, but Argonians didn’t have hair!

“Yeah, go ahead!” Quinn said, her mind tumbling from one fashion idea to another.

Treads-on-Ferns made a hissing sound. “Thanks. I want to get some jewelry for my crest,” she said, and pointed at the little spikes growing from the sides of her head. “But money is short. What sort of jewelry do you think is best for me?”

Quinn had thought of a lot of different fashion possibilities, like the best color for winter wear in each province of the Empire, even though she’d only been to three (and hadn’t seen much of Skyrim). She’d never thought about Argonian crests.

But wait. She looked up and down at Treads-on-Ferns. Her scales were a brilliant green, almost like emeralds, except on some parts around her neck and forearms where the scales were this amazing cobalt blue. It must be nice to have skin—er, scales—that coordinated so naturally. Something of a similar color might work.

“Hm, I think turquoise would look great on your crest. I saw these really pretty turquoise signet rings at the market the other day.”

“Rings usually slip off,” said Treads-on-Ferns. “But I can tie the turquoise to my crest with twine. Thank you. I’ll do that.”

Quinn was still taking in more details. Treads-on-Fern’s dress was this bland beige one that was all baggy and stuff, but boring dresses sometimes made for great bases. “If you want to add an extra something to your wardrobe, I think you’d look great with a netch leather cloak. A little one that goes over your shoulders and maybe halfway down your back.”

“Interesting. What color?”

“Hm, I love the green and blue and beige you have so far, it has this natural feel which looks great for you. Maybe blue but like a little darker than the turquoise or your scales, so it fits but still stands out.”

“I like that. Thank you.”

Everyone started murmuring. Not nasty things, but like they were impressed.

Agrippina, whose hair was done up in one of those crazy piled-high Nibenese styles that took hours to prep each morning, raised her hand.

“How long should my scarf be?” she asked, not waiting for Quinn to call on her.

Quinn already had an idea.

“That depends on what statement you’re trying to make. A short scarf can be stylish, but a longer one adds some mystery…”

*********

Muthsera Morgendorffer was a genius!

The seminar had been perfect. Everyone loved Quinn and of course they did. She’d been like some kind of glorious saint from the days of Resdayn telling everyone how best to live. And Satheri was her closest friend! Or one of her closest, anyway.

Now they’d be popular. More popular, that is. Over the next few days, she saw people come to school wearing the accessories Quinn recommended. Treads-on-Ferns tied turquoise to those weird horns of hers and Agrippina got a long red moth-silk scarf with a fringe at the end just like Quinn had said.

“We should do another one next week!” Quinn said after school that Fredas. The whole Fashion Club had gone to the Glass Crown, a little cornerclub for fashionable people right next to Saint Roris Square. A whole bunch of rice wine had come in from Cyrodiil and was being sold for cheap, so they’d bought a bottle of the stuff, like what rich ladies drank in the capital.

“I think that’s a great idea!” Satheri said.

“What should it be about? We already did accessories.”

Satheri thought about it. Maybe fabrics? You had to keep warm during the winter but you didn’t want to get wrapped up in ugly guar-hide like some Ashlander.

“Maybe fabrics?” she said, and right away wished she hadn’t. Quinn probably already had a better idea.

“That’s a great idea, Satheri! Fabrics and layers are important. Now that it’s getting cold, everyone needs a way to stay warm and look good.”

Satheri smiled and almost fainted from relief.

Through a narrow window she watched a herder lead a line of guars through the marketplace, their claws clicking against the paving stones. The scaly beasts reminded her of Treads-on-Ferns. Not that Argonians were animals, or anything, she thought to herself with a bit of guilt.

They (well, Quinn, really) settled on doing the layering seminar next Middas so it could be a regular thing. All the same steps as before: Jeval making announcements, Quinn telling the outlander girls, and Satheri telling the Dunmer girls. It was so exciting! Kind of scary, too. Satheri couldn’t make any mistakes when Quinn was so invested, and she got so worried that she ran to her room to cry once she got home. What if she screwed up? Life was so much simpler before the seminar.

What if Quinn found out about Serjo Ules's birthday party last month, where Satheri had burned a bunch of heather flowers? Synda told her burning those flowers meant she hated outlanders. That’d be it. Quinn would cut her off, and so would Tiphannia, and she’d never have a friend again until she moved. And who knew what her future husband would be like?

Drenlyn was the only time she’d have fun in her entire life and she couldn’t lose that.

Yet Morndas came and she had a job to do. Maybe start with Serjo Talori. She was always nice, so it wouldn’t be too scary to talk to her. Satheri got to school as Serjo Talori walked through Drenlyn's gates. She stepped forward—

“Satheri. A moment of your time.”

Her heart sank at the voice: commanding, certain, and petulant. It was Synda. Satheri lowered her gaze and turned to face the girl.

“Uh, of course, Sera Grilvayn,” she said, keeping her head low. Synda’s eyes were so intense that it kind of hurt to look at them; easier to stare at the ground, and probably more respectful since the Grilvayns had been prestigious for a long time.

“Walk with me.”

Synda led her out of Drenlyn and into the crowded street.

“Quinn has certainly been making an impact on local fashion,” Synda said.

“She really has been.”

“I think it’s getting to her head.”

Satheri gulped and tried to hide her own head between her shoulders. Oh no, what if Quinn saw her talking like this? Or heard about it? Her heart kicked into overdrive and her vision blurred.

Synda kept talking. “How will I uphold my own honor and secure my future if I simply let some outlander act as if she can dictate fashion to us Dunmer?”

“But she’s not doing that at all, Synda! She’s giving—”

Synda made a cutting gesture with her hand. “It’s time to take a stand. Outlanders have their uses, but they must remember their place. Quinn has clearly forgotten hers. Thus, I am forming the Haute Society to ensure that there is an alternative to Quinn’s ideas. You will be a part of it.”

“I’m already part of the Fashion Club!” Satheri protested.

“We don’t need to make it official.” Synda stopped and turned to face Satheri, grabbing her shoulders and looking right into her eyes. Satheri shrank back but couldn’t break free. Her knees wobbled.

“We are both Dunmer, Satheri. I will look out for you. When I see you, I remember the girl who so bravely burned those disgusting heather flowers at Serjo Ules’s birthday party.”

“But I didn’t know what that meant! I thought they were just flowers until you told me they’re supposed to be outlanders—”

Satheri heard herself starting to blubber, like she did when she forgot to buy everything on mom’s shopping list and mom got madder the more Satheri cried. She wished she was more like Quinn, who was strong and sure the way a Dunmer was supposed to be even though she was an Imperial.

“Whether you knew it or not, you still did it. I’m going to break Quinn’s hold on Drenlyn, and you’re going to help.”

“Quinn’s my friend,” Satheri said, speaking so low she almost couldn’t hear herself.

“You only think she is. Human girls are fickle. What do you think Quinn would do if I told her about those flowers you burned?”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Absolutely. I’d never betray confidence like that. But supposing someone did tell her, do you think Quinn would still be your friend afterward?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“She would not. Betrayal can never be forgiven, after all. That’s why you should only trust other Dunmer. We stick together. Here’s what’s going to happen: the Haute Society will be holding its own seminar this Middas, at the same time as the Fashion Club. I don’t want any interference from Quinn, so make sure she does not trouble me.”

“I couldn’t—”

“Satheri, this is an opportunity. Not only for you, but for your entire family. I’ll certainly tell my mother which of my peers supported me in this endeavor, and your support can only improve your father’s standing. Now listen closely…”

Musical Outro - Say My Name, by Destiny's Child

Treads-on-Ferns - Treads is an OC, and doesn't have any counterpart from the show.

So glad to see that the Fashion Club seminar was a success, thanks to some astute preparations, and nimble thinking by Quinn - especially regarding Argonian fashions.

I liked it when, for the next event, Satheri suggested fabrics and Quinn told her it was a great idea. Whether to boost Satheri’s self-confidence or because the idea itself had merit was not clear and completely unimportant – good going, Quinn!

Uh-oh. Synda has the predatory instincts of a panther and has chosen to exploit who she perceives to be the weak link of Quinn’s Club. And using that silly heather burning ceremony as extortion bait. Along with all the other political Dunmeri tactics that she knows will pull poor Satheri’s strings. Synda continues to prove herself a very unlikable but very competent foe.

Because Quinn is the target and, given the discussions we’ve had regarding Quinn’s view of friendship, I’m not so sure Synda’s tact won’t work. In contrast, such manipulations would never work if Synda was trying to similarly undermine Daria via Jane. Jane simply wouldn’t fall for that crap.

I liked how you set the stage here from Quinn's POV. The fashionable people. The unpopular people (ick!), the brains, and Synda with her creepy friends. It is the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Uh oh, there is trouble out of the gate when Quinn is presented with a totally unexpected conundrum. Argonian style! But if I know Quinn, this is an emergency that her fashion soul will rise to.

And there she goes, Quinn does what Quinn does best: coordinate colors!

Synda, this cannot be good. She's got her manipulative hooks into Satheri. Whatver she has planned, it is not good for the Morgendorfer sisters.

OMG! She's creating a rival fashion club! I so want to see a dance battle for supremacy in the middle of the city square.

@Acadian - Quinn definitely showed her talents in this. Adaptability is one of her strengths, so even though she was caught off-guard by Treads's question, she quickly recovered. Likewise, she knows when people need support. Granted, it's pretty easy to tell with Satheri because she always needs it...

There are definitely weaknesses in the Fashion Club that Synda can (and will) exploit.

@SubRosa - Quinn does feel pretty comfortable categorizing people along those lines.

Ha! I'll say right now that the Haute Society doesn't play that big a role in the series, but the rivalry between Synda and Quinn will rear up a few more times.

As well the much darker one between Synda and Daria...

Episode 13: All the News That's Fit to Primp

Chapter 5

Middas came, and Quinn couldn’t wait. She ducked out of Sera Benniet’s class early (it was super-boring anyway) to clear her head.

The whole layering thing was only a theme. People could ask about anything they wanted. But she still wanted to go over her ideas. Thin moth-silk almost always worked as a second layer over thicker fabrics like wool or flax, but netch leather also worked great as a way to add more variety in texture.

Quinn was still mentally going over her plans when lunch started. She saw Jeval hurry to the courtyard, where he’d make one last announcement to remind everyone. Except there were two Dunmer guys in fancy western clothes standing in his usual spot next to the gate. She’d never seen them before, and they looked way too old to be students. One of them carried a long brass horn.

But Jeval was a pro. He took his position and opened his mouth. Quinn closed her eyes and smiled, ready to hear her name shouted out to everyone in school.

“Today at lunch! Get the—”

The blast of a horn drowned out his voice. Jeval clamped his hands over his ears; the poor guy had been right next to the Dunmer who’d blown it.

Worse, the horn had gotten everyone’s attention.

“Oh no,” Quinn said, suddenly getting a bad feeling.

“Uh, today at lunch—” Jeval tried another time.

That jerk horn player blasted over him again! No way was it an accident. Okay, well if that dumb hornist wanted the most popular girl in Drenlyn to yell at him, he’d get that. Quinn balled her hands into fists and started toward him.

“Hey, could you stop that?” Jeval said. “I gotta make this announcement. Plus I'm deaf now because of your stupid horn—"

The other Dunmer guy shoved him to the side. Quinn halted. This was getting weird. The hornist played a stupid little tune and then spoke: “Hereby announcing the first meeting of the Haute Society, led by honored Sera Synda Grilvayn!”

Synda marched out onto the courtyard with a bunch of her friends. They all wore dark gowns of thick moth-silk, the kind you’d never go shopping in but might wear to a funeral or something.

“Come one, come all!" Synda announced. "You have fashion questions, and I have fashion answers. What’s more, I know exactly what the wealthiest and most respectable ladies of Vivec City will be wearing this winter. My cousin, Muthsera Bronosa Nedalor, lives in the Hlaalu Canton.”

She already had a big crowd. It looked like all of the Dunmer girls stood there right at the front, except for Satheri and Jane.

Synda kept going. “Dark colors will definitely be in. You won’t want to be wearing anything bright if you or your families get invited to any Hlaalu parties. Remember: image is everything.”

“Where can we get the right dress for this winter?” Agrippina asked, standing toward the back.

“Good question. The key to dressing for Hlaalu events is to know the right people. I would not recommend just any dressmaker’s store…”

And she did it all in that snooty voice of hers!

Tiphannia and Satheri finally showed up.

“Guys! Do you see this? Synda’s totally stealing our seminar!” Quinn fumed.

“I can’t believe… she thinks… she can get away… with this...” Tiphannia said. At least she was paying attention, or as much attention as she ever did.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Quinn,” Satheri said.

“We have to do something!”

Satheri gave an apologetic shrug. “Maybe we shouldn’t?”

Quinn couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Huh?”

“Muthsera Morgendorffer,” Satheri said, looking down at her shoes, “the Grilvayns are like really influential in Great House Hlaalu. I’m scared if you go against her, well, it might hurt my family.”

Satheri raised her head, and her eyes were full of tears. Which wasn’t that weird actually, since she cried about everything.

“Please?" Satheri begged. "We don’t need seminars to have fun. It can be like it was in the old days. Because if you pick a fight with her... it’s going to hurt me, too.”

“Hurt like how?” Quinn asked.

“Like they might ostracize daddy and it'll get harder for him to work with Great House Hlaalu. If it gets bad enough, my betrothed might decide not to marry me and—”

Suddenly Satheri grabbed the front of Quinn's dress and pulled her close. Satheri's face was all weird with her eyes huge and her teeth clenched. “Please! I can’t afford this!”

Quinn didn’t know where to start.

“Wow… that much stress… will give you wrinkles...” Tiphannia said.

Thanks for that, Quinn thought, and wondered what was wrong with Tiphannia.

But poor Satheri looked like she was about to fall apart. Quinn remembered how Turimar had threatened to put mom and dad in the poorhouse. How maybe he’d have done it if the Morag Tong hadn’t, well, killed him.

Plus, though Quinn hated to think it, Satheri was a wimp. Quinn liked protecting Satheri because it was like having a little sister to watch out for (way more fun than the weird older sister she actually had), but it was a lot to deal with. Putting Satheri through that would become a problem for Quinn, too.

Though she wished Satheri would stand up for herself a little more.

“Calm down, Satheri. I'll let it go."

Satheri released her grip and then knelt at Quinn’s feet. “Thank you, Muthsera Morgendorffer. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to get in the way, but thank—”

“Come on, come on! Get up, we have reputations to maintain!” Quinn said.

Because they totally did, even if Synda hogged everyone's attention. Crying was great when it made a guy feel sorry for you, or maybe at one of those big confession and reconciliation moments. But you looked clingy if you did it too much.

Jeval walked up to them. “Hey, Quinn. Sorry about that, but you saw what happened.”

“It’s okay, Jeval,” she said. “I think we’ll be putting the seminars on hold. We got what we wanted.”

“What did we... want?” Tiphannia asked.

“You know, to make sure everybody knew about us! And unlike Synda, we didn’t need a noisy hornist or some snooty relative in Vivec! After school, I think we should celebrate by going out the Glass Crown. All on me, girls.”

Except she hated to give up like that. She’d worked so hard and done everything right. She’d given her money to Jeval and Daria, answered everyone’s questions, and given fashion advice that people actually followed. All that work undone because Synda had connections that Quinn never would.

Oh, she was mad. She wanted to yell and scream until everything went her way. But getting really mad was like crying: you had to do it at the right time.

“That sounds… great…” Tiphannia said.

“Thanks, Muthsera Morgendorffer. I’d love to go,” Satheri said. She was smiling through her tears but still had kind of a crazy look in her eyes, like she might flip out over something.

“Can I get hazard pay for today?” Jeval asked.

“Tell you what, I'll pay you your regular amount, but you can join us at the Glass Crown. Since you helped us a lot.”

He looked from side to side, and then thought about it for a moment.

“I guess you guys are like my coworkers now. So, sure, I'll take it.”

Musical Outro - Beautiful, by The Go-Gos

Urgh, upstaged by Synda. I’d like to think that Quinn could best Synda in a fashion diva contest due to her superior passion for it but only on a level playing field. But as Satheri points out and Quinn angrily acknowledges, that is not going to happen. Outclassing Synda would also undermine Synda’s House would be bad for both Satheri’s and Quinn’s families.

“Wow… that much stress… will give you wrinkles...” Tiphannia said.’
- - Haha, Tippi’s been hanging around Quinn long enough to pick up some of her fashion sense. . . but none of the tact that Quinn wields.

Oh well, perhaps just as well for now if the Fashion Club has a drink of bug juice and takes some time to plan their next steps.

Uh oh, Synda's evil plot takes shape, starting with some dicks she hired to upstage Jeval.

Synda's got the money and the thugs. But I don't think she can out-fashion Quinn. Not in the long run. I suspect she will win this round thanks to the element of surprise. But Quinn's got some contacts of her own. I expect her to come up with a plan (I am sure Daria will be involved somehow) to strike back.

Poor Satheri, she's caught up in the middle of all this. It was what January meant when she so recently pointed out to Xochitl that you needed to think about the consequences of your actions, and how sometimes other people suffered those for you.

OTOH, now that you mention Turimar and that guild of assassins... How much would it cost to have a student murdered again?

As ever, I loved how in the middle of all that Quinn was considering the effects on popularity that crying had one oneself.

Synda's a real fetcher. But the bad kind—the profanity kind. Her attitude is so not fetch. Hope someone spills sujamma and shein on her outfit.

You know, if you haven't yet, you can check out Elder Scrolls Online for a myriad of outfits themed to all the regions of Tamriel.

Maybe Quinn could discover the power of CHIM some time and show Synda what's up.

I always find "Muthsera Morgendorffer" amusing when juxtaposed alongside all the Dunmeri names.

RE: a couple previous posts of yours, Clavier:

• I believe there is a Ratcatchers Guild beyond Project Tamriel lore. I want to say they were named in Arena. There's a ton of things named in Arena that could be used in subsequent TES games. Luckily, some of them have been, which is really nice. (For example, the Arena origin story for Bretons referring to druids of Galen is being expounded upon in the upcoming DLC for ESO). I like to vouch for Arena lore.
• I want to say that The Real Barenziah has information on how Mer age compared to Humans. I think they age the same way until adulthood but from that point on Humans tend to age much more quickly, at least according to TRB. And according to my memory if it serves correctly. There's also a Nordic story about Orkey turning all Nords (if not all humans) into children until one of the Nordic heroes (Ysgrammor?) forced him to return them to their normal ages. Or something along those lines. I can't remember the details well at the moment.

Sorry I haven't gotten to comment lately on your story. Good to see you going strong on it, Clavier.

Cool, this time they have an audience. "Some unpopular people showed up, as always" Darn, what a setback!

What? She hasn't got a speech? Oh man, this is cringe-worthy.



Ha ha. This is exactly the same sort of advice I might see in some fashion magazine (minus the words "bland" and boring"). A very astute observation. The mags might use the word "neutral tones" instead of bland or boring. Neutral-toned clothes are like tofu: rather tasteless, but you can add whatever you want to make them flavorful.

But anyway, this is turning out okay. Quinn is getting it done! Quinn's going to be even more popular! ... I know this story is sort of about a rather shallow topic, but underneath all of that there's a deeper theme going on. The outlander is making waves. She is standing out. Which is not supposed to happen. Outlanders are not supposed to be better than the native Dunmer population.

But that's right. Satheri was part of that horrible heather festival. Which is all about burning up outlanders.





Wow, you've got Destiny's Child (not just the most famous gal Beyonce). 🎤 You've got a broad musical taste, Clavier. The Go-Gos rock too. Fave song: Our Lips are Sealed

@Acadian - Quinn is kind of a user of people, as others have pointed out. But only to an extent. While she sees Satheri's support as a way to get ahead, she does care about Satheri.

Tiphannia is... unusual. She's probably the most one-note recurring character on the show. Honestly, I kind of regret following suit in this series, but I just never got around to her.

@SubRosa - Quinn's big advantage (fashion-wise) over Synda is adaptability. Back in Cyrodiil, Quinn would have been disgusted by the idea of eating bugs (while Daria would have enjoyed the idea, largely because it disgusted Quinn). But I figure that Quinn would have started scarfing bugs down the moment they set foot on Morrowind because she knew that's what she had to do in order to be taken seriously (while it took Daria a bit longer to warm up to the idea).

Crying can mess with makeup and complexion, so I imagine that'd be something Quinn is always worrying about.

@RaderOfTheLostArk - Ha! I see what you did there. Maybe someday "fetch" will happen.

I did look, and ESO has some good examples for sure! And if Quinn ever figures out CHIM... Tamriel will be a much different place. Probably a better one, in many ways, but potentially a more annoying one in others.

So I actually didn't find out about the Ratcatchers Guild until after I'd already written that story. But I think the minor guilds are mostly limited to Cyrodiil and maybe some of the bigger provincial cities. Balmora's too much of a frontier.

Since there's also a Painters Guild (I've even developed a few quests where the Painters Guild features), the limitation to Cyrodiil would explain why Jane's not a member. Balmora's not a small town, but it's kind of rugged and back of beyond. Jane might be the only artist catering to outlanders there. Episode 15, "The Tell-Tale Art", explores this in more detail.

As for the age issue, I did some research and never got anything too solid (though I'll admit I've never read The Real Barenziah). I ultimately just went with Mer aging at the same rate as Men up until young adulthood for the sake of convenience, but it's good to hear that I was (probably) correct.

I also never got any solid info on how old Argonians get. Here, I went with Argonians living longer than Men, but not as long as Mer (which will become relevant in the epilogue).

No worries about the comments, and always good to hear from you.

@Renee - Well you gotta watch out for those unpopulars! They might *gasp* make you unpopular, too!

As Daria has said, both in her show and in Morrowind, Quinn's shallowness is so thorough that it's almost like depth. Since she really knows her stuff.

Quinn is standing out. Which is a risk. One that Daria's painfully aware of, as this chapter explores.

So I can't take too much credit for the soundtrack. Most of the songs I picked were picked because they played on one Daria episode or another. Not all, though. I also chose songs from bands that never appeared on the show, like Ozma, The Raveonettes, and The Decmemberists, among others. Pre-'90s songs are also more likely to be my picks. And thanks for the song rec! Our Lips Are Sealed is a new one to me.

Episode 13: All the News That's Fit to Primp

Chapter 6

Daria loved to see her sister taken down a peg. But Synda beating Quinn at her own game only threw Daria into a panic. She hyperventilated as the pain of old blows echoed through her nerves and bones. She heard the crunch of her old glasses beneath Synda’s feet, the hateful sound forever imprinted on her memory.

She fled Drenlyn. Chest heaving and arms shaking, she practically ran through the streets. All she wanted was home: its thick walls, its darkness, its safety.

Daria threw herself on her bed as soon as she reached her room and tried not to think about the attack.

So, naturally, that’s all she thought about.

The longer she waited, the more likely Quinn would escalate the situation with Synda and unwittingly bring it to a violent breaking point. Daria should have stayed at Drenlyn to keep an eye on things. That's what good older sisters did. But it hurt. She shivered and hugged herself, and it still hurt.

Later in the afternoon, hearing Quinn’s footsteps coming up the stairs, Daria realized she still didn’t have a plan.

“It’s so unfair!” Quinn shouted the moment she came in. “You saw what happened today, right?”

“I sure did,” Daria said, lying on her side and trying to sound like she didn’t give a damn. Maybe a display of apathy would make Quinn give up.

Make Quinn give up and hide her confidence so that she truly became the conformist she pretended to be. Daria’s stomach twisted.

“After all that work I did. That we did, ‘cause you helped!” Quinn said.

“My rates are going way up if you want me to fight Synda.”

Quinn crossed her arms, her face flushed with anger. “Right, I get it. You don’t care about anything.”

“Trust me, it’s way easier.” Oh gods, she hated the words she spoke. She wanted to tell Quinn the truth. Tell her how awful Synda was.

But she couldn't. Not if she wanted Quinn to stay safe.

“Well, I care about things," Quinn fumed. "The only reason I can’t do anything is because Synda’s family is like important or something, and if I fight her it might get Satheri’s family in trouble. The way Turimar tried to get us in trouble.”

Gods. Not only was Daria a complete failure as an older sister, but Quinn actually sacrificed what she wanted most to keep a friend safe.

What if Quinn was just better than her?

“This makes me so mad,” Quinn said.

Daria slowly sat up and took a few deep breaths to calm down. She couldn't leave Quinn completely adrift. “Yeah,” she finally said. “It’s enraging.”

Quinn gave her a quizzical look. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“It’s not that.” Daria weighed her options. She wanted to tell the truth.

But she couldn't.

"So, we can do something?" Quinn asked.

"It's not that simple. Remember how you felt when Turimar threatened you? Because his influence went a lot farther than our influence? It's kind of like that with Synda. There's not much we can do to her."

Quinn looked doubtful. "Satheri tells me that the Grilvayns are powerful, but not that powerful. She knows a lot about this stuff, Daria. It's like her whole world."

"Well," Daria said, "how can Satheri be sure? Remember the time Synda tried to trick you into going into that Camonna Tong hideout? That's a pretty sure sign that she has friends in low places who might be willing to do some pretty brutal things to us."

Quinn shook her head. "No way. Synda was just trying to embarrass me. Satheri told me that the Grilvayns don't hang out with the Camonna Tong anyway. They aren't the right kind of family."

Daria hesitated. She didn't think much of Satheri. Then again, Satheri had grown up in this kind of environment, so she would know. Jane, for all her street smarts, was almost as much of an outsider as Daria.

Had Synda lied to her about hiring Camonna Tong thugs?

The pain of the memory cut through everything else, and Daria shook her head. "Look, you've already had one close call with Synda. Don't try for another."

Quinn drew herself up. "So what then? Keep rolling over like some loser?"

"If that keeps things from getting worse, so be it."

"Daria, is there something you're not telling me?"

Yes. Tons of things.

"Remember what I said," Daria warned, taking a random book from her desk and opening it up. "And if it comes crashing down on your head, don't blame me."

"Fine, I won't!"

As Daria's eyes moved over the text without taking in the words, she prayed that it would end with this.



*********



Daria sucked at lying.

Which was weird, because she was all creative and stuff. But only on paper. She couldn't fib to save her life face-to-face.

She knew there was something her sister wasn't telling her.

Quinn didn’t have any classes the next day, so she went off to the market to buy a kwama egg for the evening meal. She didn't usually think about the stuff Daria said, but she'd sounded scared the other night. Of what, Synda?

Okay, so Synda had almost tricked Quinn into going into that sketchy tavern. But the Camonna Tong couldn't get away with killing people who blundered into the Council Club. Them killing random outlanders would make the Hlaalu look bad, and if there was anything the Hlaalu hated, it was looking bad. Satheri said that only the sketchiest or most powerful families hung out with the Camonna Tong. Boring business families like Synda's didn't go anywhere near them.

Balmora was more dangerous than Stirk, but not by as much as Daria thought. Hiding away wasn't an option for Quinn. People loved her. Like practically everyone who mattered had gone to the seminar and followed her advice.

Quinn got in line at Llervo the egg-seller's stand. That’s when she saw Treads-on-Ferns walking past, a big sack full of something slung over her shoulder. She still wore the turquoise in her crest.

“Hi,” Quinn said, waving.

“Oh, hello,” Treads-on-Ferns said, coming to a stop. “Thanks again for answering my question last week.”

“My pleasure,” Quinn said. It felt good to remember, but it hurt, too. Gods, she wanted to be able to help like that again. “I guess Synda’s the new expert though.”

Treads-on-Ferns shook her head. “I know better than to ask her for anything. To tell you the truth, Quinn, I was trying to put you in a hard spot. Most people don’t like to think that we Argonians care about looking good. They think we’re nothing more than lizards. But you did a good job, and even thought about my scales.”

Huh, she hadn’t expected that. But it seemed like a compliment. It was hard to tell because Treads's face was so different. “Of course! You have like the prettiest scales, so it only makes sense to emphasize the colors. It’s like what I do with my hair.”

“I don’t know much about hair, but I guess that makes sense. Anyway, I’m sorry that Synda’s Haute Society took over.”

“Oh, that’s no big deal. Seminars are so last week, anyway.” Quinn thought about it for a second. Treads-on-Ferns wasn’t popular. In fact, Quinn wasn’t sure she had friends at all.

But at least she gave her opinion. Tiphannia was always off in la-la land and Satheri was too scared to say anything. If the Fashion Club was going to be for all Tamriel, she needed to get some Beastfolk perspectives, too.

“You know, Treads-on-Ferns, the Fashion Club could use a new member.”

Treads-on-Ferns looked like she was thinking about it. At least Quinn was pretty sure she was.

“What would I have to do?”

“Oh, you know, stay up to date on fashion. But that’s like super-easy since we spend all our time in the market anyway. It’d be great to have you if we ever do seminars again.”

Treads made another hissing sound, which sounded sort of scary but she probably meant to be friendly. “Okay, I’m up for that.”

“Great! I, Quinn Morgendorffer, formally accept you, Treads-on-Ferns, as the fourth member of the Fashion Club!”

“Are your friends going to be okay with that?”

“Oh, totally! We’re all really supportive. Anyway, we’ll be having a meeting tomorrow after school so you can get to know everybody then.”

“Great. I’ll be there,” Treads-on-Ferns said. “I should probably get these ash yams back to my parents. See you tomorrow.”

“See you!”

She waved as Treads-on-Ferns left the market. So it wasn’t a total loss after all. Sure, Treads-on-Ferns wasn’t popular or anything but maybe that didn’t matter so much. In a place like Morrowind, you needed whatever friends you could find.

The End

Musical Outro - Alright, by Supergrass

Author's Note: Episode 13 marks what I consider to be the end of the first "season". While I didn't actively write this with seasons in mind, I couldn't help thinking about it later on.

The first season introduces settings and characters (as first seasons usually do). Daria and the others did face some pretty tense situations, like dealing with Mages Guild skullduggery, cruel and spoiled nobles, and the odd nix hound attack. But for the most part, Daria can stay distant and keep her hands clean.

This is the point where that starts to change. Season 2 (episodes 14 to 23) show that you can't really sequester yourself from the world in the way she wants, at least not indefinitely. Season 3 (episodes 24 to 32), the final season, is ultimately about her figuring out how she wants to interact with this world. The tone stays the same. The comedy doesn't go away. But there is a bit more weight.

A neat look at the situation from Daria’s perspective, totally influenced of course by her own baggage with Synda. Even as she soul searches and knows she should offer support to Quinn, she remains her own worst enemy. Some deep stuff though as Daria even wonders if Quinn is just better than her.

As you conclude this season, it seems to me that both sisters are complex young ladies that are very different from each other. Both have plenty to commend them and both have their own significant flaws.

This continues to be a wonderfully well-crafted and enjoyable story!