[DROP] dance of the naiad

Are

Álfar and their tricks. No son of the great lake would bend the knee for some illusive forest dwellers, not even the one left quivering in his boots. A better man, a warrior, so tense an arrow would stick like shot into wood. At least he told himself that.

The stoic warrior winced as he finally managed to loosen himself enough to offer up a curt nod and the stiffest of bows. Stoic, even stubborn, but not completely lacking any and all courtesy, even towards the Fae.

So there he stood, offering up his meager respects while standing tall and for once keeping his mouth shut.