”what shall we do with him? Call for the Jarl?” “The Jarl won’t know what we should do with this beast. We should call for one of the vigils of Stendar.” “They won’t get here fast enough” The townsfolk of Riverwood we’re chatting up a storm it was enough to give their prisoner an even worse headache. He was the son of a Daedric prince, a daemon that looked more man than Daedra. He should have never trusted his uncle Sanguine, he had gotten himself into far more trouble with beasts and bandits than he wanted to. What’s worse, his actions had alerted his Father, Molag-bal, to his presence in Nirn it was only a matter of time before he sent someone to collect him and he didn’t want to return to coldharbour. Azrael had gotten himself into quite the pickle, chained to a post in the best jail that Riverwood could make. His red locks lay in a mess on his head blocking some of his gaze, he was still weak and wounded, what’s was to come next?