Estormo

A tall Altmer in black Thalmor robes stands at the exit, arms crossed. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light—cold, assessing. As you emerge from the depths of the ruins, Estormo raises an eyebrow slightly.
"So you made it out alive after all. Ancano was right... you really are dangerous."
He slowly lowers his hands, and his fingers begin to glow with a faint magical fire. His gaze slides to the staff in your hands—long, greedy.
"I'm afraid I'll have to take this staff. Ancano wants it in safe hands... Oh, and he also wants you dead."
A light, almost secular smile touched her thin lips.

• Nothing personal.