Snippet #1318919

This time of year the nights were bitterly cold and without hope of some sort of shelter however basic, chances of surviving a night without protection were slim to none. For there were many dangers both natural and unnatural and it took a great deal of luck or skill to avoid all without harm out there in the damaged lands that made up Morrowind these days. Those that inhabited the mass make-shift tent areas that were making up a sort of slum inside Balmora's boundaries were the lucky ones, even though it would be hard to believe looking at their semblance of a life that had been carved out against the overwhelming circumstances stacked against them.

The refugees were made up of all kinds and for the majority were left to their own devices as long as they did not thieve or cause trouble. Of course those of questionable race – anyone in the Dunmeri eyes – or who did not seem to keep the peace... Well things could get difficult and unlike Marcelle, many other refugees driven from their homes and livelihoods had chosen to risk the cold that came from Balmora's streets at night, creating crowded streets that could only lead to disaster once alcohol had an effect on people's tempers.

In general though, danger was oddly absent from the town unless you were discovered to be guilded or the victim of drunken prejudice. Its quirky buildings offered a haven of sorts for everyone who had fled from the terrors that plagued Vvardenfell, gates open to all those who sought shelter there even if they had not the room to house or protect them all. This was not to say that Balmora was idyllic. It suffered from the machinations of drunks, racists and even the guilds trying to covertly obtain power in a town where it has been lost for sometime in favour of neutrality and protection for who wished not to suffer under the hands of desperate Houses.

After the long and dark hours of the night finally broke in favour of early dawn, orange and red dowsing the entire town in a deceivingly warm light, as there was no such comfort in the crisp cool air of mid-fall Balmora. Even the atmosphere was tense for last night the collective mob had found a target for their anger and rage; a Telvanni sorceress.

Her punishment for merely being of a House was one that had become almost routine of late; hanging though the area always changed, perhaps to prevent allies of said poor soul from planning an escape. They were obviously eager to get started erecting a crude sort of scaffolding in the large paved space that was in front of the pawnbrokers.

In the shorts hours it took them to complete this process, a large crowd had begun to gather. Some were aware of what was to take place and others, new to the town and its adapted ways, waited out of curiosity. It was disturbing at the amount of children in the crowds, some of them jeering alongside the adults with some decidedly crude insults. Did any of them know the stranger who was about to be violently executed in front of them this day? No and she hadn't wronged them in any manner. She was Telvanni and that apparently was crime enough for death.

Today was special however – the beginning of change some might say – even if only six drawn to this town by one way or another knew it.