Turning at the sound of a low-pitched whistle, your eyes strike dark smoldering green ones. Looking down slightly, moving only your eyes, you notice a sword at your throat. Looking back at the man, you notice his set jaw with a slight trail of crimson running from about mid jaw to his chin...blood? His shirt torn and dirty, blood stained in places...This is a warrior, a killer. He has no friends, but is never left wanting for an enemy. Locking you into his gaze he dares you to move. Still assuming you mean him harm- his sword does not waiver. A sudden streak of sheer panic floods your body as you realize he means to kill you. Suddenly he drops his sword away from your neck, sheaths it, bows slightly, then turns and walks away.