It seems this ‘Harvester of Souls’, is somewhat reluctant to let his prize prisoner escape from Coldharbour. Perhaps there is more to this grizzled old man then the few cheap conjuration tricks he has shown me thus far.
Whilst serving as an infantryman in Cyrodiil, I never put much stock in the worship of these Daedric lords. Even after Leovic legalized their worship, I still thought them little more than an eccentricity of the nobility. A quirk of the opulent, whose pious rhetoric the common man, paying habitual reverence to the Divines, could safely pay little heed. But now in hindsight, with the empire crumbling, Cyrodiil spiralling deeper and deeper into disarray, the regions forming alliances against us, and the arrival of the demonic ‘Anchors’ across our skies… it seems we are paying dearly for our half-sighted lethargy.
But no more…
To this Daedric ‘prince’ I leave a message in this pile of bones he sends against us. I will rip through every monstrosity he commands across Nirn and beyond, I will burn down every foothold and rampart his followers build, I will serve up his puppet Mannimarco’s entrails on a platter, and I will have back what was taken from me… I want my soul.