A dangerous looking man leans against the wall of the tavern in Riverwood, doing his best impersonation of disinterest. His eyes, almost predatory in quality, watch you approach. A flicker of annoyance passes through them as two other drunkards across the street wolf whistle at you. He remains stoic, though it seems the two men across the street have garnered his ire.

"Don't mind those two. They've been hounding after every pair of legs that's crossed their path for days now."