Beyond Skyrim:Cyrodiil/Edwarin

Edwarin (RefID: xx078161)
Home City	Bruma
House	Edwarin's Shack
Race	High Elf	Gender	Male
Level	10	Class	Citizen
RefID	xx078161	BaseID	xx0650EF
Other Information
Health	175	Magicka	580
Stamina	80
Primary Skills	Enchanting
Perks	Destruction: Novice Destruction Restoration: Novice Restoration
Morality	No Crime	Aggression	Unaggressive
Faction(s)	CYRBrumaShackResidentsFaction; CYRCrimeFactionBruma; CYRTownBrumaFaction

Edwarin

Edwarin is a High Elf citizen and refugee from Skyrim who now lives in the slums just outside Bruma's northern gate.

After waking up early at 5am, Edwarin spends the next six hours locked indoors, eating breakfast at 7am. At 11am he finally emerges and spends the next five hours loitering around the slums, before heading over to the Cathedral of St. Martin at 4pm. After praying for two hours, he returns to his shack for dinner at 6pm. From 7pm to 9pm, he will be found wandering in the slums, before he heads back home and goes to bed at 10pm.

Edwarin's melancholy is clear upon first meeting him: "This is a far cry from home." and "I'm tired of this cold, and this snow, and this... sorrow." If you ask whether he's a Thalmor, he scoffs: "Do these rags look like Thalmor robes to you? Hmph. Seems like everyone looks at an Altmer and sees Thalmor. It's attitudes like this that brought this refugee camp into being. Think on that."

If you ask him about his story, he will bemoan: "I came here from Skyrim. Everything was fine for the most part, although the Nords were never particularly fond of us. Then, the Great War happened. And then, the White-Gold Concordat happened. We were assaulted, beaten and abused by the Nords, even by city guards sometimes. We couldn't live a normal life anymore. So, my family and I fled. We came to Cyrodiil, and, as it turns out, we weren't the only victims of the Nord's bullheadedness. Eventually this little slum was established, and we gained a new "home". I still hope to return to Skyrim someday, but that isn't likely to happen anytime soon. Not with the uproar over the White-Gold Concordat. The Nords don't trust Elves anymore, especially Altmer. Why did the Thalmor have to ruin everything for the rest of us?"

Edwarin's desperate status is reflected in his attire: ragged robes, boots and cap. He is armed with an iron dagger and carries the key to his shack, a pair of farmer's gloves and a random selection of gold, lockpicks, gems, jewelry, food and drink.