Tamriel: Origins

Below the main promenade, a narrow stair of pale stone descends to a broad, rectangular chamber whose walls bear only faint starburst etchings—here beauty was not a priority. Faint azure light seeps from fist‑sized Welkynd sconces, revealing fifty simple reed‑woven pallets arranged in regimented rows upon the cold floor. A sour mix of damp straw and overworked bodies lingers in the still air. Iron rings are set into the walls at regular intervals; many hold slack chains, others lie ominously empty. At the far end stands a gated alcove containing two water jars and a cauldron for thin porridge, tended by an elderly Nedic cook named Varan of the Mists, who quietly shares news among captives. A stern Ayleid overseer, Falionil, paces the aisle with a light‑imbued rod that stings on contact. Four shackled Beastfolk—two Cat‑Men from the south and two lizardlike Saxhleel—sit apart, whispering in their own tongues and eyeing escape routes. Crates of barley and dried fish line the rear wall.

A dimly lit chamber with cold stone walls, faintly glowing sconces, and rows of simple pallets. The air is thick with the smell of damp straw and sweat, and the atmosphere is tense with despair and whispered hopes of escape.