Legacy of Traitors RPG

[Eorl of Rohan]

"Great Grief, for the sake of Iluvatar..." Ferethor sheathed his blade again reluctantly, but did not sink down back to his stool. His brow was furrowed in distrust and anger, his youthful countenance creased with a mistrustful scowl as he watched the man appraisingly and said softly and deliberately so that only the newcomer could hear him,


"Arridan, I think you named yourself. You would do well, boy, to not address Lady Maen so publicily if you want to stay alive yourself. That is, unless you are suicidal. Our friend Roryn here was about to put an arrow through your neck, I noticed, and I wasn't too far away from running you through with my steel either. Whoever you are and whatever relation you have towards a member of our company, keep it to yourself if you don't want to die. I am not unskilled in the arts of fencing and swordfighting any more than you are."


A candid threat, but not one of the blustering ones since Ferethor was in a position to fulfill it. Sinking slowly down on the stool as if nothing happened, but his hand still pointedly on the hilt of his jewel-encrusted knife, he turned to Maen and said as he nodded brusquely but courteously in seeming meek submission, "As you wish, my lady." He may as well try his best to take the others off their guard by being meek and submissive instead of argumentative and quick-angered like he usually was. But Ferethor had doubts that this would work.