Act 1, Part 1: The Swordlord's Feast

[Kavonde]

The Call for Heroes

Let it be known far and wide:

Lady Jamandi Aldori, Swordlord of Brevoy, issues a call to the brave and the ambitious

To retake the Stolen Lands

To end the rule of the so-called "Stag Lord"

And to tame the wild vastness and bring order and prosperity to a new realm, forged by courage.

Let this call reach all those who call themselves heroes

And let them join Lady Aldori at sunset on Sunday, the 1st of Pharast, 4702 AR

At her great manor in Restov

For the assembly of an excursion to claim the Stolen Lands

And a celebration of those with the courage to attempt it.

 

Thus read the message that found its way to you. Whether it was by a letter addressed to you personally or by a bulletin posted in the common room of an ale-sodden tavern, you heard the call. And, for your own reasons, you have answered.

 

The air is chilly and damp as the sun sets. Spring is near, just over the horizon, but winter in Restov was cold and harsh this year, and its claws are still dug deeply. There's a strong breeze coming in from the northwest, carrying the oxygenated smell of a coming storm. The people of this city are hurrying to finish their business and get inside; the common folk mutter and nod at each other that there's a storm coming, and it's going to be a bad one.

 

A cobblestone road, lined with sturdy street lamps, leads up hill that overlooks the city. Nestled atop it is a great mansion, three stories tall and built of solid, light-gray stone. It looks more like a castle's keep than a noble's villa, though rows of hedges stand in for sturdy walls. A pair of soldiers, clad in fine breastplates and steel helmets and with long, curved swords belted at their sides, stand rigidly at attention despite the chill wind. Another pair of guards are ahead, at the manor's great oaken doors, while a third soldier, sans helmet, stands behind a podium with a quill in hand, asking for and writing down the names of the evening's visitors.

 

Past those doors, presumably, lies a great hall filled with warmth and fine food and a legion of colorful and strange individuals mad enough to answer the call. But there's no rush, other than the worsening weather; the sun hasn't set yet. And there already appear to be a few other would-be heroes clustered near the doors but not yet going in: among them is a halfling girl, a lute slung over her shoulders, wearing a green tunic and a matching feathered hat; a particularly dour-looking dwarf man with a graying beard and bald head; and an impressively muscled human woman wearing furs that probably aren't doing much to keep her warm. The halfling and the human seem to be arguing with each other, while the dwarf looks on with a bored expression.

[PlotDevice]

Verne’s lips move as he looks at the posting inside the tavern, able to read, but not well.  After a few times reviewing the words, he understands the message, and looks over to see that his breakfast has been served – an extra-big bowl of milky porridge on the floor for Shardik, and a smaller bowl, steaming, on the table for him.  As he eats, he thinks about the message.  It says “tame” and “bring order”, and those words worry him a little.  He’s seen that the Brevic people left some of the wild alone, but not enough, and what zeal might possess those who go into a new and wild land as conquerors?  He does consider himself a hero, so really, he was invited, it would be rude not to go, wouldn’t it?  He smiles, mind made up, as the two huge cinnamon rolls come from the kitchen, one for him and one for his friend, the gift of a cook grateful for a young man’s free treatment of an illness he was too ashamed to take to the village healer.

 

 

A few days later, a young man in a woolen cloak that seems too thin for the weather walks out of the woods near the base of a hill, followed by a bear that looks like a cub, but whose shoulder is higher than the young man's waist.  They walks up the slope until they reach the crest, where they stand on the cobbled path, and both turn in unison to the north, sniffing the air.  They stand in that strange attitude for a few minutes, the bear sniffing continually, experiencing the kaleidoscope of scents from the city below, while the young man stares out across the valley, inspecting the city and the wilderness beyond, and the low lands that lead to the north, where he knows a storm is blowing in from.

 

On another night, he’d ask Shardik to dig them a cave, and light a fire in it to warm the air for a comfortable sleep.  Tonight, though, he’s going to do something much more difficult, but also much more important.  He is to attend a party.  He heads up the road toward the huge manor, stopping for a moment to satisfy his curiosity about the argument, before stepping forward to the man at the podium, to give his name:  “I'm Verne Greencloak.  I'm here about the Stolen Lands.  Should I wait for sunset?”

 

[BlackHat]

    

At the gates of the manor, two more guests arrive. The first was a pale older man, of Chelish decent, who wore dark formal robes. This assembly was taking place at the manor house of a Swordlord so perhaps formal attire was entirely appropriate. A younger woman kept pace a few steps behind him, carrying a leather pack with rope and other exploration supplies strapped to the sides. Her demeanor was that of a servant or an apprentice and her clothing was far simpler. She might have passed as his child if her supernatural nature were not made apparent by her ink-black eyes, the smear of blood on her forehead, and the strands of black string forming binding patterns across her neck.

 

The man joined the queue in an orderly fashion, while Verne spoke with the guard at the podium - a fellow civil servant who was dutifully taking attendance. While his expression might have looked irritated, Zakon had nothing but respect for processes like these and the functionaries who execute them. His companion set the pack down, while they waited, and the muffled clank of iron chains could be heard as the bag hit the cobblestone. Zakon couldn't help but eavesdrop on the dispute, between the halfling and the human. After all, his duties often involved resolving disputes.

[Dybrar]

Jinny Briarspoke HP 16/16    AC 18    Fort +5    Ref +9    Will +5        Hero Pts 1

Among the people braving the chill on the streets of Restov this night is a curious, diminutive figure. No bigger than a young child, dressed in well-worn clothes of muted earthy hues, she pads along the cobbled roads with an urgency born not so much from a yearning to get out of the cold and damp, but from having a very particular and important destination in mind.   Were it not for the figure’s pointed ears and the lack of hair atop her small, bare feet, one might mistake her for a halfling – or rather, were it not for all that and the pale, delicate wings sprouting from her back. Though apparently not capable of letting her take to the sky, they nevertheless look much too intricate to be artificial. Unless, perhaps, the little one is a performer, already in costume for some reason, due to act in some fey-themed play at one of Restov’s more storied theatres?   It turns out she is no such thing, as her short but swift strides presently take her uphill to the mansion of Lady Jamandi Aldori. She takes in its stark opulence with a faint frown as she approaches the villa, and eyes the soldiers with a similar lack of awe; if anything, there is a certain guardedness in her gaze. Nor does the fact that she is far from the first arrival here improve her mood any, let alone the existence of a queue – however short – in front of the soldierly receptionist.   Not really one for waiting her turn in an orderly manner, the pixie proceeds to traipse about idly, inspecting everything and nothing. Every now and then she launches into some kind of impromptu skipping game across the villa’s flagstones, wings fluttering as her dainty feet leap along some unseen path with considerable deftness, though she invariably loses interest in the game as suddenly as she undertook to play it. When this happens she goes back to wandering around at random, occasionally scratching one or another of the countless minute scars marking her skin.

[Rider Z]

Lerris Ninthborne                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            HP: 20/20 AC: 17 Fort: +7 Ref: +3 Will: +7       Hero Pts: 1

 

The morning of the Swordlord's Feast

 

"And for those with the courage to attempt it... eh? Isn't that a laugh then?" Lerris chuckled to himself as he read through the note with one hand, pinching his nose with the other to keep the rank smell of unwashed horses from piercing his nose. Stables weren't exactly the type of place one went if they had a vulnerability to smell. But Lerris was low on copper and a bale of hay was better than a cobblestone street at any rate. 

 

"Suppose by confident they mean anyone fool enough or desperate enough to risk it all on a pipe dream." Lerris continued to himself as he rose warily from his makeshift hay cot, giving a wave to his neighbor who neighed a greeting back in turn to him. He stumbled up slightly, grabbing a leaning sword by it's sheath as he moved. Then he made his way to a nearby window, leaning arms against it and leaning out. From there he looked up, far up and away in the distance towards a lonely mansion that rested on a hill. The swordlord's estate. A half mad, half lazy, smile spread across Lerris' lips as he looked up at that mansion

 

"Luckily for us, I'm all three of those things. And most of all a fool." Lerris chuckled one last time before turning around and jumping over the stable sty that had acted as his bedroom door the night before. He slung the wrap of his sword over his back and made for the front of the stable, humming a small tune to himself as he walked.

 

"Been a pleasure my equine and swine friends. But seems our paths diverge this day, though I'm half thinking I'll be off to the slaughter same as the pigs here." He said with a back handed wave to the farm animals. Lerris hummed a small tune to himself as he walked out of the stable and onto the cobblestone road, eyes focused on that imposing mansion atop the hill. He rubbed underneath his collar and at his neck absentmindedly, where the marks of rope had been imprinted onto his skin nine times over. It seemed fate had finally got around to presenting a chance for him to erase those marks.

 

---

Lerris was used to the cold. He'd lived in Restov for all his life, except for brief periods of time when he had to nip into the River Kingdoms of course. But he was well used to the coldness of his homeland and bared it well, even while wearing a ratty coat that did little to keep out the cold. What he wasn't used to was the mansion in front of him. The biggest buildings he had ever been in were a prison and a courthouse, neither visits of which ended well. Initially he had worried he might stick out like a sore thumb, though the woman in her furs helped assuage that feeling somewhat. But he was well used to sticking out anyhow, after all he towered over most people and had a face that would make most recoil. That combination wasn't exactly subtle. 

 

"Ah, enough with the worrying. Stand still too long in this cold and my feet are liable to freeze in place." Lerris said to himself as he started off, running four fingers through his hair as he moved. He considered for a moment joining the line for the podium, but thought against it. He'd lost most of his patience for lines after the last one he had been in. Instead he turned his attention to the ongoing argument, figuring someone ought to try and put out the fire before it started.

"Not even arrived at the Stolen Lands yet and we're already at each others throats are we? Suppose that's in the spirit of things for the Stolen Lands though, eh?" Lerris chuckled, addressing both the halfling and the fur-bound woman as he made his way up to the both of them. He mustered the friendliest smile that he could, hoping to ease any tension that might have been in the air. 

Edited November 26, 2022 by Rider Z (see edit history)

[Kavonde]

The soldier behind the podium looks up from his scroll as Verne approaches. Taking in the unassuming-looking young man, he frowns slightly. "You may head inside if you wish, though the staff is still setting the tables. Please avoid getting underfoot. May I have your name?"

 

The guard glances past Verne to Zakon and his unsettling companion. He seems to recognize Zakon's robes, and nods respectfully. "Your Honor, it will be just a moment."

 

Nearby, as Lerris approaches the arguing individuals, he comes close enough to hear the discussion. "Because he has an army, Amiri!" the young halfling woman is saying, frustration evident on her expressive face. "If you go off by yourself, you'll die!"

 

The human woman in the furs scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you care?"

 

"I care because we're friends!"

 

"I just met you, you weird little... "

 

They look up as Lerris approaches and speaks. The human woman, Amiri, scoffs again. The dwarf looks up at Lerris with a mildly curious expression. The halfling woman looks at him with surprise. "Oh! I don't know you!" she says. "I'm Linzi. These are my friends Amiri and Harrim."

 

"We're not friends," Amiri growls.

 

"Perhaps, but why not be?" the dwarf, Harrim, asks. His voice is low and melancholic. "Friends make life more pleasant while we wait for the end."

 

Linzi glances at Harrim with a mix of amusement and concern, then holds her hand up towards Lerris. "Are you here to join the expedition?"

Edited November 21, 2022 by Kavonde (see edit history)

[AnemoneEnemy]

Thomas of Nowhere | AC: 16 | HP: 19/19 | Perception: +4 | Fort: +6 | Ref: +6 | Will: +6

---

Spell Slots: L1 - 1/1 | Hero Points: 1/1 | Focus Points: 1/1 | Effects & Conditions: None

---

Eidolon | AC: 18 | Fort: +6 | Ref: +7 | Will: +4 | Per: +4

---

 
"Ay, th' place entire's hoachin'. Nae wonder the lairds and ladies issue a call tae th'brave an' ambitious, an' nivver tae cowards content with their lot."

The speaker must have come up quietly amid all the arguing: an elegant young man of middling height, or perhaps a hair less, in the embroidered greens and browns of a noble playing hunter, or perhaps a hunter who was rewarded with nobility and allowed it to make him soft.
His long dark hair is gathered at the nape of his neck in a loose ponytail; he's a pretty man, all high cheekbones, rosy lips and lean, long limbs. He has bright green eyes, and a slyly merry smile, though it seems to wobble and fade when looked at out of the corner of the eye, and slim, long-fingered hands: a harper's hands, or a thief's.

.

"Well, an' suren claimin' bravery's a small price tae pay fer feastin'. A braw enough hall this is tae make guid on th'promise of cream an'cakes for mony a brawny lad."
His smile twists and goes morose for a moment, a melancholy cloud passing over his face, and then its gone, as if it was a trick of the light.
"Lads well fed--ay, an' well watered, too--are more like tae sign up tae go get kilt by brigands in th'dark woods, an' call it an expedition as they go."
He's laughing when he says it; his eyes aren't.

[PlotDevice]

Verne smiles at the soldier.  “I will wait, then. My name is Verne Greencloak.”

 

He turns to look around at the group gathering, stepping away from the podium.  His gaze settles on at the folk clustered around an argument, wondering if they'll fight for dominance.  He hasn't seen much of that in these civilized lands, it seems that some old man fought for dominance a long time ago, and won so handily that nobody even challenges his successors.

 

He approaches closer to the cluster, about to ask them himself if this is how such fights start, when a new voice catches his attention.  He frowns in concentration, not fully understanding - he thought he knew this language better than he apparently does - but he starts to puzzle it out, and as he is trying to figure the best way to introduce himself, a wet bear nose presses against Thomas's hand.  Verne is grateful for his friend's help, but also aware of how people sometimes react to the bear.

 

"Hello!  That's Shardik, don't be afraid.  Do you think there will really be cakes?  That would be wonderful!  We like dark woods, we would go in one for free, will they pay us to go?"  At his side, the bear cub stares up, eyes fixed on the young man, who has said one of the young bear's favorite words.

 

Edited November 21, 2022 by PlotDevice (see edit history)

[Spektor]

Antonia Rullianus

      A tall, lithe woman stepped out of the alleyway near the main cobblestone path. She straightened the billowing white blouse beneath her dark vest and fiddled with the hems of the sleeves to ensure everything was in place. Medium-length, straight, and black hair danced around the shirt's high collar. The woman tugged at it unconsciously with a black gloved hand, seeming uncomfortable in the fencer's attire. The black leather boots didn't quite fit and her toes were cramped together at the pointed end. She was dreadfully aware that the dark leather pants shaped her rear end a bit too much, due to being slightly too small in size as well. Nevertheless, she had to dress to impress. It was not every day that you got the chance to stand before a Sword Lord as their guest. She needed to be perfect. She needed to play the part of the aspiring noble. The woman closed her eyes, took a deep breath through her nose, and exhaled through pink puckered lips. When her eyelids opened again, they drooped casually like someone bored with their environment, but the silver irises beneath gleamed perceptively. Yes, that would do. No more stalling. It was time to fully commit to her role.

---

 

Antonia Rullianus made her way up the path towards the Manor, casting side glances to those who passed by her, appraising them quickly and moving on. Upon reaching the base of the manor, she quirked a dark brow upwards at the scene already playing out before her: An argument between a warrior woman and a bitty bard. "Quite the welcome party that's been set up for us. Although, I cannot say that I have ever seen this theatrical drama before. I am immediately pulled in and must know how it ends." A sly smirk spread across her bronzed face and she offered a wink, mostly to the bard. "So then, this is quite the crowd. Are you all here for the 'big mission'? Quite exciting. How hard could it be, after all?" If only she had known how hard indeed.

 

She immediately drew back in surprise after surveying the rest of the individuals and spotting a bear. "My word, is that a bear? I hope it is house trained. I cannot imagine a worse impression than have your pet leave a gift of their own in such a fine place as this." The idea actually caused her to chuckle a bit and she placed a hand over her stomach to exaggerate the action. "But I digress. I should show better manners in such...company." Her eyes slid over towards the gaudily dressed judge and his guest. She struggled immensely to keep her nose from scrunching up in disgust, but she had been successful. Her expression ended up somewhere in the realm of sarcastic respect.

 

[BlackHat]

Zakon listened in to Linzi, Amiri and Harrim's conversation as he waited in line but quickly lost interest when it became clear they they were mostly arguing about whether or not they were 'friends'. His talents would be squandered resolving this dispute and Amiri seemed completely capable of coming to her own conclusions about their relationship. Between these strange people, the spritely fey creature entertaining herself with children's games atop the cobblestones, and the man in front of him in line who apparently had brought a bear cub to the event, Zakon began to wonder about the 'heroes' such a broadly dispersed invitation would bring to the night's event. These were the punctual ones. Although she had seemingly put no effort into vetting her would-be champions, Lady Jamandi Aldori must have some criteria for selecting who among the rabble would be best suited to bring law and order to the Stolen Lands, and bring the Stag Lord to justice. Zakon only had the evening to learn the rules by which the Swordlord would make her decision and to leverage that understanding to reach an agreement with the Lady... or to come to the conclusion that this was not the opportunity that he thought it might be.

 

Zakon's attention was drawn, however, to the rough looking man who joined the discussion. Lerris's face seemed familiar, and it took Zakon a moment to place it. Normally, his story wasn't one Zakon would have remembered. His duties ended when the sentence was passed. In this particular case, the Man-Who-Would-Not-Die (Some had been calling him Lerris Noosebane) was the topic of much gossip after the event, and the trials of the men who failed nine times to carry out their duties, before abandoning them altogether, were memorable indeed. A convicted murderer, who was sentenced to death, being set free by his executioners was a much smaller problem than the one that would result if examples had not been made.

 

Some claim that Lerris was guilty of crimes so unthinkable that Asmodeus refused take him. Zakon knew better, of course. Still, Lerris was a curiosity and Zakon wondered what truly happened, that night. He also wondered what brought this sort of scoundrel to answer a Swordlord's call for heroes. Did this man consider himself a 'hero'? Pfft. A man, like this, could not be expected to adhere to the clearly stated prerequisites attached to the invitation. Zakon glowered as he stepped forward to the podium, now that the man in front of him had joined his bear and the other barbarians who were debating 'friendship' or 'cake' or something frivolous.

 

The guard, for whom Zakon still held much respect, had not failed at his duties yet. The riff-raff gather but have not yet been granted access to the event. However, as the guard ignored the papers Zakon presented and simply, if respectfully, asked him to state his name, Zakon's opinion of the guard began to diminish. He of course, complied, "Zakon Malheur, formally answering Lady Jamandi Aldori's summons." Zakon held out a handful of parchment, including the invitation, a second time, hoping that the guard would take the opportunity to at least feign inspecting them for authenticity and heroics. The guard would not have risen to the position, where he was assigned his own podium and allowed to remove his helmet, if he could not take a hint. As he gave the parchment a cursory glance, he eyed Zakon's unusual companion. "... and Niviq'zis, my familiar, who attends me, this evening." Niviq'ziz bowed her head toward the guard, in response to her introduction. One of the other guards turned his helmet to exchange a concealed glance and shrugged in response. "I, too, shall await the agreed upon time." Zakon westward toward the setting sun, impatiently, as though implying that the staff busy preparing within the manor were nearly late to their task.

 

As he joined the others in waiting, he took note of the green-haired man with an exotic accent, although his speech was difficult to follow. Perhaps Zakon was too harsh but quickly came to the conclusion that he used a lot of words to say very little. He hadn't even registered the reference to cake until the younger man, with the bear, said something about how 'cake' is one of the bears favorite words. Was this a bear who understood Teldane? Zakon was skeptical but knew of such magic. After all, he had granted Niviq'zis an understanding of human speech.

 

The arrival of the well-dressed noble woman was a breath of fresh air, on a night that increasingly began to smell of fur. She was polite, even if Zakon could detect a hint of sarcasm.

Edited November 22, 2022 by BlackHat (see edit history)

[Kavonde]

Amiri, her arms crossed over her chest, regards Thomas with a raised eyebrow. "I have no idea what you just said, and I kind of want to punch you."

 

"Amiri!" Linzi scolds her. "Don't do that! You'll get kicked out!"

 

"Why. Do you. CARE?!" the barbarian roars. Linzi quails.

 

When Verne mentions cake, and Shardik perks up, Harrim's eyes widen a bit and he looks to the young druid. "Does he like to be petted?" the dwarf asks. "I always wanted to pet a bear before I died. Or the world ended."

 

Antonia's arrival draws a squeak of delight from the halfling bard. "Oh, wow! You look so cool! Um, my lady. Ma'am. Your... Highness?"

 

Amiri is less impressed, but she grunts in agreement to Antonia's "how hard could it be" comment.

 

Meanwhile, at the front door, the unhelmed guard inspects Zakon's paperwork with a thorough eye. He nods respectfully to the judge. "Of course, Your Honor. You are welcome to tour the grounds; Lady Aldori maintains a well-regarded hedge maze on the western side of the manor. I should inform you, however, that preparations for the feast should be nearing completion, so you may wish to limit yourself to the immediate area. It is, of course, entirely your decision, my lord."

 

Nearby, Jinny can't help but notice that one of the guards--a tall, human man wearing an odd necklace of feathers and mixed beads of wood and iron--is eyeing her with deep suspicion. When their eyes meet, he touches the necklace and mutters something, perhaps a short prayer or incantation, and then he looks pointedly away.

 

Edited November 22, 2022 by Kavonde (see edit history)

[Rider Z]

Lerris Ninthborne                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          HP: 20/20 AC: 17 Fort: +7 Ref: +3 Will: +7       Hero Pts: 1

 

 

"Suppose I arrived at a good time then. At least in time for all the good company to come rolling in. And for what it's worth, doubt she'd be thrown out for a punch. Figure that's what we've been hired for after all. Or at least are about to be hired for." Lerris said as his eyes turned for a moment, looking at all of the new arrivals. His eyes glazed over them, gauging and weighing. It was an old instinct, one he was half-ashamed of and half knew he should never lose. His gaze stopped lazily on a few of them in particular, people that tripped an invisible alarm in the back in his head. In particular was the one named Zakon. That name and that title, the guard has addressed him as "your honor," both were familiar to him. And not in a pleasant way.

 

But Lerris wasn't here for unpleasant business, far from it indeed. He was here to make something. A future secondly, and a few friends namely. So he turned from Zakon and to others, the ones who had dropped in on the same conversation he had. He tried for a moment to decipher the pretty man's almost indecipherable accent, but ultimately decided that was a battle unwinnable by even the finest warrior. So instead he turned his attention to the new woman. She was tall, that was obvious. Not as tall as him of course, but that was an unfair comparison. As his dear old da used to say, Lerris wasn't sure if he was full blood human or half giraffe.

"Lady who's above even a a judge eh? Must come from one of those good families, the ones I always hear in the news then forget right after. Mind you I'm not the most loving of the lawmen myself, and I've got more copper than gold in my blood." Lerris chuckled. But it was a hesitant one. In truth he had a more than growing respect for judge's, guards, and other such lawmen. It was just this particular one he found himself with an aversion to.

"And keep holding onto those manners long as you can ma'am. Reckon once the expedition starts it'll be harder to keep them after all." Lerris continued, voice flickering from good humor to dour in almost an instant. Then it flickered back again when he thought on the word "manners" and turned to address everyone, but mainly the tall lady. "Speaking of manners, I'm Lerris by the way. Lerris Ninthborne. Soon to be glorious conqueror and lawbringer of the Stolen lands! ... Though more likely than not I'll just end up carrying the bags for you my lady, and maybe the judge over there if he asks nicely."

Edited November 23, 2022 by Rider Z (see edit history)

[BlackHat]

"Nonsense," Zakon bristled, who had been paying attention to both Lerris and Antonia, "Niviq'zis will carry my bags." As he said this, the young woman behind him hurriedly picked up the leather pack she had rested on the ground, accompanied by the sound of metal chains muffled by cloth.

Edited November 22, 2022 by BlackHat (see edit history)

[PlotDevice]

Verne Greencloak | HP: 16/16 | AC: 15  Fort: +3  Ref: +4  Will: +9 | Hero Points: 1/1

---

Verne smiles gently up at the tall swordswoman, as she comments on the bear, but says nothing. 

 

He turns in response to the dwarf's question, still smiling. "He's not a dog, or even a pet, but you can introduce yourself to him.  He enjoys meeting polite people, much as I do, and he does get itchy behind the ears."  Shardik's steady sniffing has made it clear that Thomas has no cake about him, so his attention wanders, as he looks around and takes in all the new people.

 

[AnemoneEnemy]

Thomas of Nowhere | AC: 16 | HP: 19/19 | Per: +4 | Fort: +6 | Ref: +6 | Will: +6 | Hero: 1/1 | FP: 1/1

---

Eidolon | AC: 18 |  Per: +4 | Fort: +6 | Ref: +7 | Will: +4

---

 
Thomas chuckles as the bear snuffles at his pockets.
"Hullo, ye strong lad! Whit like are ye? I've eaten every treat I had, I'm afraid. Waitin' fer a feast can leave a fellow famished, like."
His tone is conversational, and he pauses, for all the world like he's waiting for the bear to respond. He actually looks a little miffed as the bear turns away; his expression settles into something wistful and distant, though he pastes a smile over it. He reaches out and scratches the bear behind the ears with both hands.
"A strong an' handsome lad! An' such roond ears ye 'ave!"
Verne, attuned as he is to the wild, gets the sense of being watched, for a second: a pair of eyes looking over Thomas' shoulder, ancient and haughty and distant.

Thomas' head comes up, and he glances at Amiri, drawing himself up. For a moment, he draws himself up like a regal lordling, his back straight and his eyes flashing. There's a moment in which it seems like he might dare her to try. But in just a second or two, he deflates.

 

"Aye, do as ye like, then. Whit's a broken nose aside a broken heart?"
There's real misery in his thick highland brogue, bitter and jagged; his mouth twists down and his shoulders sink. He shakes himself, pastes his sly little smile back on, and forces good cheer back into his voice.
"But I've jist gane an' made a strong friend, an' I reckon he'll step in fer me, suren he will."

As if to make sure of that, he puts the bear between himself and Amiri, and keeps scratching its head. He looks at Lerris, and raises a hand in greeting, returning it to the bear's head promptly when it grumbles.
"Thomas o' Nowhere, at yuir service, Lerris. Or Everywhere, an ye see it like that. Ye're welcome tae me bags; a braw and strappin' lad ye look tae be."
He follows Lerris' gaze over to Zakon, and then glances back at Lerris. This one's a bitter potion, isn't he, his smirk seems to say.