Chapter II

Darovin Karo, a grey skinned dark-haired red-eyed clean-shaven muscular Dunmer, stared out of the kitchen window at his wife, as she futilely tilled a small part of the field with his son Brendarr and the relative newcomer, a young Orsimer girl called Magoza.

His wife was a beautiful thing. Her light bluish-grey skin and dark scarlet hair, glistened in the sun. His son looked like a strange cross between the two of them, his hair a strange black-red and his skin a mid hue of grey and blue.

It had been a long time since their farm had been able to produce anything. They had lost nearly all their money and every last worker because no matter how hard they tried, they struggled to get anything to grow.

His family had thought that they had been blessed. The farm had survived the eruption of Red Mountain and luckily were just far enough north to have avoided the Argonians taking over southern Morrowind. Now it seemed they had fallen prey to some kind of curse. The soil had become dry, clay like and clumpy, unable to grow much of anything. The crops that did survive were usually weedy pathetic things that no one would buy. No one but the poor that was.

He looked to the sky and saw rain clouds in the distance. It didn't matter how many gathered, very few dropped their rain over his farm, causing most plants to simply die of thirst, and they were too far from any rivers to get water that way.

He peered down at the small chest that lay in front of him on the stone floor by the small window. He squatted down and opened it, rummaging through all the odd bits till he found what he was looking for, his old ebony crossbow. He pulled it out and looked at its dull scratched and worn surface.

In his youth, he had used it while he had been a sailor. The ship he was on, had ventured across to the island known as Solstheim. It was how he had met his wife Llandri. Eventually though, the time had come for him to return home and face his responsibilities. He took over the farm from his parents, who were becoming too old to run things anymore. The farm survived for many years, even after they had passed on, but then things began to take a turn.

Maybe he just wasn't a good farmer, that or he had picked up a curse somewhere. He often wondered if it were a secret plot by the Argonians, though he knew that last one was just him being paranoid. After all it only seemed to be his farm that was suffering.

His family had farmed this land, going back several generations from even before the great Vvardenfell volcano had erupted. For it to be him that finally saw it fall into decay made him feel inadequate, a failure. The truth was that he no longer wanted to be here. The dead crops were a constant reminder of that felt inadequacy.

His wife and he had tried all they knew to get the crops to grow, but they always failed. Their son Brendarr was starting to lust for adventure, and he feared that if he left, he would never return. So when the inevitable time came, and Brendarr told them that he was leaving to see the world, Darovin would agree that they'd all do it together, as a family. It was the only thing they could do.

He placed the crossbow back into the chest and closed it. Maybe he was being overzealous, perhaps it was just a dry period that had just happened to have lasted for over ten years.

He had requested new land, just as one of his ancestor's had once done centuries ago after the old one had become overrun by the flying predators known as cliff racers. Of course, his ancestor didn't have the misfortune of having to deal with the fallout from Red Mountain. He had been outright refused to even purchase new land, as it was a commodity now, and few could afford it.

That had been long ago, when they'd had the money. Now they couldn't even ponder the idea of buying new land. It was well beyond their financial means, and it had been for the past four years.

Darovin heard the door go. He looked around to see his son enter, wiping his dirty, clammy hand across his grey heavily ridged brow.

"We've tilled the ground so hard we mighta broke through to Oblivion itself," Brendarr said with a heavy sigh, his accent as common as the muck he'd been tilling.

"How's Magoza doing?" Darovin asked his son.

"Fine I guess. I don't see why we have to have her 'round though?"

"We need the help and she's a good kid."

"Nothing will help that soil."

"Maybe she's good luck?" Darovin suggested.

"Pfft, whatever," Brendarr said dismissing the foolish notion.

"Well she certainly hasn't been a burden on us. She works hard and always remains grateful."

"Yeah, well I would have preferred it if someone prettier had come knocking on our door two months ago. Someone nicer to look at, who isn't quite so, y'know, Orcy looking."

"That's not very nice, son."

"Well it's true."

His son would soon be eighteen, yet he still acted very adolescent at times. He wondered if he himself had come across that way when he was his age. "She's a very good worker," Darovin said. "And she has some really good manners. You could learn some from her."

"I have good manners."

"Compared to an Or-" Darovin stopped himself from finishing his sentence, feeling rather foolish.

Brendarr Smiled. "You were gonna say compared to an Orc, weren't ya?"

"Look, she's a nice kid and ya shouldn't be cruel, 'specially behind her back."

"I'll say how ugly she is to her face then."

"That's not what I meant."

"Father, I'm just saying that a nice Dunmer girl would have been much nicer. Or how about one of those Altmer ones, I hear that they're into-"

"I think I should stop sending ya to the city for supplies and start sending Llandri instead," Darovin interrupted. "These things ya hear, are just silly tales by perverted city folk."

"Speaking o' which, Don't we need some iron ore, we broke another hoe, and we don't have any metal to make new pieces for it."

"Along with a whole heap o' stuff," he said with a sigh. "Perhaps I should send ya up with Magoza. She'd be a good influence on ya, and she could do with getting away from here for a bit. Poor thing has been trying to show her worth, and in me opinion, has been working far too hard for her own good."

"Don't make me go anywhere with her," he moaned.

"You don't have to worry, I wouldn't think of putting her through such torture. Though we do have some crops we can sell that are actually half decent this time."

"Well then, I'll take our amazing crop of twelve marshmerrows to sell, oh and what about the half dead saltrice that are flopping about in ground, we could pull them out and sell them to the blind."

His son was trying to be funny, but his words cut through his father like butter. He grimaced and his son instantly realised that his light-hearted joke was anything but.

"Sorry father, I was just trying to make a friendly joke on the situation."

"The farm is a joke, and a bad one at that." He looked out of the window at his wife who stood talking to the Orc. "Yer right, son. We only have two dozen or so marshmerrows and scrib cabbages that made it through. No matter what we try, without enough water they simply won't grow."

"Well the canis roots are doing quite well this year. We might be able to sell a good few o' them."

"Good Idea son, but that won't keep this roof over our head in the long run."

"Maybe the curse of Red Mountain has finally reached us."

"We've tried to make this work, son. I think that maybe we shouldn't bother no longer. The river is too far away to collect enough water, and it barely rains meaning the well is almost dry all year round. This place is done for."

"Whatcha mean?" his son asked, concern clear in his voice.

"I mean just go," he said simply.

"Leave the farm?" Brendarr asked, his eyebrows raised, his jaw semi-slack. "After all this time?"

"Well we can't stay can we."

"Have ya spoken to mother about this?"

"Not yet," he said. The truth hurt. If they stayed then they would eventually starve. The crops grew thinner every year and no one wanted to buy most of the crops that survived, let alone the ones that didn't. They had to leave, there was no alternative. "Forget I said anything." Darovin said after a moments thought. "I'm just frustrated."

"Ya sure?" his son questioned. "Ya seemed pretty sure only a few moments ago."

The father shrugged. "I dunno. Just get those filthy clothes off and get yerself wiped down."

"Okay, father," Brendarr said as he headed into the other room.

Darovin once again stared out of the window at his wife. It had been so long since he had seen her truly happy. It had been so long since he himself had felt happy.

They were all wasting their lives here and he knew it. He only wished he had the courage to accept it.


As Llandri spoke to Magoza, the Dunmer couldn't help but smile. She remembered the day, just under two months ago now, when she had knocked on their door. She had looked so frightened, her little face had been full of sadness and covered small cuts, from where she later found out was from a nasty fall out in one of the fields.

When she had arrived, she'd been fairly short, but had grown quite a bit since then. Now she was almost the same size as Llandri, and as such, she'd allowed the young girl to borrow some of her clothes, which she was wearing now.

Llandri still didn't know much about the youngster's history, as it was a sore topic for the Orc. That didn't really matter though. What did was that the youngster wanted to help them turn around their bad luck, and for that she was grateful.

"The soil shouldn't choke the roots now," Magoza told her, looking down at the freshly tilled ground.

"It shouldn't do, but the lack of rain is the real problem here." Llandri reached around and scratched the centre of her back with her thumb. "I just wish we knew what it was that was stopping 'em."

"What have you tried?"

"A lot of different things. Tried digging out large trenches near the edge o' the farm, so that when it did rain it filled them up. Worked a little, but not as well as expected." Llandri pointed over at the well. "The trench adds to the well water, but it's still not nearly enough." Llandri knelt down and picked up some of the soil in her hand, letting it crumble through her fingers. "We'll have to start seeding," Llandri said as she stood up. "I'll go grab the seeds and put 'em in baskets, then I'll show ya how we plant 'em, We'll have to grab what little water there is from the well."

"Okay then."

Moments later Llandri had the seeds in two small baskets and showed Magoza how to plant and space out the seeds properly. Soon they were both pacing up and down the field, dropping the seeds at regular intervals, making sure the soil also had enough water, which it didn't.

An hour later they were finished and headed back into the house where they were met by a stern looking Darovin, sat at the end of the dining table.

"Is everything alright?" Llandri asked him. "Ya look a little foul about something?"

Darovin looked up at them and tried to smile, failing completely. "Nah, it's nothing," he said shaking whatever was bothering him away.

"Are ya sure yer alright?" she asked. "Brendarr hasn't been acting like a s'wit again has he?"

"A slackwit? No, I was thinking that tomorrow, that perhaps you and Magoza should head to the city instead o' Brendarr."

"Why?"

"Well, Magoza's been stuck here since she got here. She needs a change of scenery. Ya do too."

"Well I suppose it would be good to get away for a bit," Llandri agreed. "Have ya gotten the list ready?"

"It's ready," Darovin said as he passed her it.

"I'll check it now so we don't forget nothing."

Llandri began to read down it. "Alright, the usual." She continued to look down the list, her eyebrows raising at the last thing on the list. "We don't want any of that miracle grow potion," she told him flatly. "We tried it before, and it did nothing to help the plants. It's just a waste o' gold."

Darovin's head sank. "We have to try something."

"We just have to persevere," she told him.

"How can we!?" he asked, his tone becoming slightly heated. "How can we, when we produce so little? And what we do manage to grow, we eat most of it. We're basically growing bad crops for ourselves."

Llandri looked out of the window. "Maybe we should all head into the city. Go to the temple and pray."

"We need rain, not prayer!" Darovin snapped.

Llandri looked at him. "When was the last time we tried?" she asked.

"Just before Magoza came," he said. "And foolishly I thought it was a sign." He smiled wistfully at the young Orc who had been stood there silently. "Yer a good kid, but not the answer to our woes."

"Then what is?" Llandri asked him. "Where does this end?"

"We just have to keep at it a bit longer," he told them, echoing his wife's earlier sentiment. "Just as ya said."

Llandri took in a deep breath. "I pray that something happens soon to change our fortunes."

"Maybe we should try to find better ways to capture what little does fall here," he told them.

"Like what?" Llandri asked.

"A field of water towers perhaps?" he said thinking aloud.

Llandri bit her lip. The more she thought about it, the more it upset her. In her heart, she knew the farm was not likely to ever recover, but she stayed strong for her husband's sake. This was his family legacy, and it was dead. It had been dead for a long time.

Even though she wanted to leave this place behind, to begin anew. She also couldn't leave her husband. She loved him deeply, and knew if they were to leave, it would have to be on his terms.

This farm was his family's legacy. It was very much a part of him, and for her to demand that they leave just felt wrong to her. She would support him for as long as he needed her too. She would always be there for him, that much she had vowed.


Early the next morning, Both Llandri and Magoza headed into the nearby ancient city of Almalexia, on the Karo family carriage. The experience was especially strange for the young Orc, as the scenery was most foreign to her. From the strange flora and fauna, most notably the giant mushrooms in the former, and the netch in the latter

The netch were squid like creatures that she saw floating along the plains. She didn't know much about them, apart the fact they were freaky looking. Pretty much like everything else in this strange land.

Another thing that caught her eye were the guar. A two legged lizard creature that seemed to take the place of the horse. In fact the cart they were on was being pulled by a rather large one.

From what she had been told by her hosts, a cart guar was quite a rare sight. Most people didn't bother with the training it took to get one to pull a cart or wagon, making it a one of a kind in a way.

When they finally entered the strange city, the both of them headed straight for the market district, Magoza pushing a small, tall wooden hand cart with four small wheels. They began to purchase the items written on the list, slowly filling the cart.

As they moved from store to store, Magoza couldn't help but stare at the sights, be indulged by the sounds. Everywhere she looked, she saw strange architecture, and every face she looked at, peered back with scarlet eyes.

The thing that struck her most however was the decay. The city looked like it was falling apart, and the streets were littered with the homeless and destitute.

From what she knew, Almalexia was now the most southern city in Dunmer controlled Morrowind. Every city south was now part of the Argonian State, and as such no longer really part of Morrowind. It troubled her, especially when she had learned that they were once all part of an empire. More so when she discovered the Morrowind used to take slaves from Black Marsh, the Argonian homeland, despite them all being part of the same empire.

As the walked along the streets, the Orc observed a strange looking building in the distance behind a tall wall, more strange than the ones around her. Upon asking Llandri what it was, she was told it was Mournhold, the temple city, a city within a city. Magoza didn't even think a thing was possible. She had heard of districts, but two cities together? It seemed like madness to her.

The two of them stepped into a small shop which was crowded with shelves covered with all kinds of things, from books to candlesticks as well as items the young Orc had no clue as to their use.

Llandri stepped up to the counter. "Good morning," she said to the elderly Dunmer behind the equally crowded counter.

The mer smiled. "Ahh, not sending young Brendarr this time I see." He looked over at Magoza who was holding onto the small wooden hand cart. "And who's this you have with you?"

Llandri turned and waved the young Orc over to the counter. "Her name's Magoza."

"Good to meet you. I'm sure-" he paused and looked over at Llandri. "Sorry I forgot your name."

"Llandri," she told him.

"Of course, and you're married to Karokan."

"No, it's Darovin." she corrected. "Karo is the family name."

"Darokin?"

"No, Darovin."

"Darovin? Isn't that your husband's name?" the shopkeeper asked, clearly muddled and confused.

"Yes," Llandri confirmed. "Darovin's me husband."

"Excellent, now what are you here for?"

"Do ya have any lamp oil 'round?" Llandri asked. "I want to buy a few bottles of it."

"You want an oil lamp?" the man asked. "I may have a few lamps around here somewhere." He turned away from the counter and began to look.

"No," she replied raising her voice, trying futilely to not become annoyed. "I want some lamp oil."

"What?" the elderly Dunmer asked turning back to the counter.

"It's the oil I want, not the lamp," she told him, becoming flustered. "I want lamp oil,"

"Aahhh, lamp oil. I have a few bottles of the stuff somewhere. Might be a bit old, but I can sell you it cheap."

"Cheap is good," Llandri said. "And I was wondering if ya had any bits of metal laying 'bout, that ya wanted rid of?"

"Bits of what?"

"Bits o' metal."

"Bits of metal?" the shopkeeper asked. "What do you need bits of metal for?"

"To repair things 'round the farm."

The man smiled. "Of course, you own that farm," he said pointing. "I remember when that Karokan-"

"Darovin," she corrected.

"-yes, when that Darokin's father used to own the farm. Main farm for supplying Almalexia if I recall."

"Now it supplies the least," she told him. "We can barely grow anything out there any longer."

"Yes, I heard. Oh well. Now what was it you wanted?"

"Lamp oil and some scrap metal ya have lying 'round."

"I'll go get them," he informed her, moving off. Into the back.

A few moments later he placed five large bottles of lamp oil on the table and some small bits of metal. After paying for it, she placed the products into the cart Magoza was holding. She tried to push it, but the cart was starting to get too heavy for the young Orsimer

With a quick chuckle, Llandri took control of the cart. They both left the store after a goodbye to the aged Dunmer, and headed off to gather the rest of the things they needed, albeit they took their time as Llandri gave Magoza a tour of the city.

While it looked like it might have once been most impressive, now it was nothing but poverty and decay.

Magoza asked if they could see Mournhold, but Llandri said they didn't have time, and they proceeded to gather the rest of the supplies they needed from various shops.

Once they had everything, they headed back to the farm, just as the sun was on its final hour before it descended beneath the horizon.


The journey back to the farm had been quite stressful for Magoza. Not only had the sun set leaving them in darkness, but the creatures in the distance had made the most strange and frightening noises.

The small lantern that hung off a wooden arm on the cart, did little to illuminate their surroundings beyond a few feet, making the whole ordeal seem all the more terrifying.

On several occasions, the young Orsimer thought she had actually seen eyes staring back at them in the darkness from the side of the road.

As soon as they were back at the farm, Magoza began to feel better. This land felt far more dangerous than High Rock or Skyrim had ever felt and she didn't like it. In fact she hated it.

She dared not tell her hosts that fact just in case they took offence. This was their homeland after all, and she was simply a guest in their house. She knew she should be grateful, and she was. They had taken her in despite their obvious hardship. It was a theme that was familiar to Magoza, but she didn't think about that too hard. There were memories of faces she missed deeply, and right now she needed to remain strong.

Darovin, who was stood in the kitchen area smiled at the two as they stepped through the front door. "Bit late aren't we?" he asked.

"Took it slow," Llandri told him. "Wanted Magoza to get the sights and sounds of the city."

"Ya okay?" he asked the Orc. "Something spooked ya?"

"Just the strange noises," she told him, glad that Brendarr wasn't in the room. Magoza knew that he would probably use it to deride her in some way. While she liked the Dunmer teenager, he didn't seem to like her for some reason.

"Strange noises?" Darovin inquired.

"The creatures were making noises in the dark," Magoza explained.

"Well they do make a lotta noise," Darovin agreed. "So whatcha make o' the city?"

"It was nice," she told him. "A lot of homeless though."

Llandri nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's a shame that. We should be grateful that we're managing to keep our heads above water in that regard."

"I saw the temple city behind the wall."

"You went to the temple?" he asked them.

"No," Llandri said. "We saw it in the distance."

"Ya didn't pray?" Darovin asked her.

"Not today," Llandri said. "Was thinking we should go out as a family and do it."

"You know how I hate leaving the farm with no one to watch over it," he said to her. "Besides, It's done us no good in the past, why would it do any good in the future?"

"I know it hasn't," Llandri accepted. "Just a thought."

"I know," he replied with a small smile.

The three of them sat there in silence for several moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

Magoza yawned loudly. It had been a long day, and the young Orsimer was starting to feel it catch up with her.

"Tired?" Darovin asked with a smirk.

"Yes," she replied. "I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight," Llandri said to her.

"See ya in morning," Darovin added.

"See you tomorrow," Magoza said shortly before going upstairs to bed.

As she drifted to sleep, the sights and sounds of the city drifted through her mind. A single tear of regret rolled down her cheek. She wished Meratur her father, and Bagol her mother could see this place. She wished Valerie and Tam could have seen it also.

She missed them all dearly. But there was nothing she could do about that now. Nothing at all.

Updated 27/03/2014