Dragoncrest Cliffs But I am still new at getting old

I'll roll 1d6, evens hit odds miss if Rosalyn presses her luck!

A worthless prisoner has no voice, and your racket is annoying, snarled Ephraim, bolstered by Tux's steadfast presence and the guffaw that burst from his companion's lips. His ears cocked upward of their own accord and a little smirk—quite similar to his mother's, unbeknownst to him and pretty well anyone that hadn't made her acquaintance—unfurled across his lips. We're not stupid, we know what you're up to. But worried? Please. They can come and die in vain for you all they want. Lashing his tail twice, he stepped dangerously close to the prisoner with every hair on end in a threat display. If she didn't shut up she was going to learn how worthless Drageda really thought natrona were. As long as she was alive, they wouldn't care if Ephraim and Tux beat her to a bloody pulp.

And he fully believed they were capable of it. Like his golden-mantled friend, Ephraim thought Drageda, and by extension himself, were unbeatable. She wouldn't dare touch a hair on their hides or she'd find herself in worse jaws than the inexperienced ones of two young warriors hungry to prove themselves.

But, he pressed in a quiet voice with eyes blazing, You have no friends out there judging by their silence. Who wanted some traitor scum for a friend anyway? A natrona. It was only a matter of time before the one they were betraying was you, and Rosalyn had already proven (if the adults were to be believed) that her loyalty was solely to herself, so surely her absence was more of a relief than anything to her silent fellows.