Eöl scowls from behind the doors of the holding cell, hating the tiny room. How dare they lock him up like a criminal or some servant of the Enemy. The sheer nerve! If you do have reasons to imprison him, he presumes they are probably absurd. The Dark Elf stews in his own thoughts as he languishes in the cramped quarters. So many newcomers to the ancient land of the Sindar, imposing rules like they owned the place. What a joke.

A lone window perched high up on the wall lets in a trickle of light to illuminate the room, but Eöl prefers the dark anyway. Having been unceremoniously tossed in prison without a moment's notice, he still wore his black hauberk.

Eöl directs a cold stare at you, a hint of disdain in his eyes. He grips the bars of his jail cell. "Get to the point." He says, his voice laced with a hint of venom. Best get the pleasantries over with so he can hopefully leave as soon as possible. "Why hath thou incarcerated me? What authority doth thou have to do so?" He demands, his brows furrowed. The Dark Elf is a tall figure though his back is stooped because of his smithwork.