(Untitled)

[panser_bjorn]

(OOM: Iorek has been keeping himself busy. Which leads directly to this post.)

The back door opens, revealing the huge, sleek shape of the armored bear as he drops to all fours and pads over towards the Bar, a flat piece of wood a couple feet across held carefully in his fearsome jaws. As he gets to the Bar he rears up onto his hind legs. Taking the

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[will_scarlett]

Will knows his should go up to his room and rest, but moving still hurts with his cracked ribs and thinking about various things.

So he's going to the Bar to get another ale when he sees the sign and slowly reads it then blinks, looks at Iorek, blinks again, takes a drink of ale and repeats the process.

[panser_bjorn]

The bear looks at him, black eyes peering from within the deep slits cut into the wedge-shaped helmet. Slowly he raises the earthenware jug to his mouth and takes a slow drink of water. Seeing Will still in the same confused state when he lowers it, he nods.

"Good day. Seems like you want to ask something." His voice is deep, rumbling but clearly articulated. And strangely flat, devoid of tone or emotion, just like the black eyes.

There's a feeling of physical power, of huge violence barely held in by intellect that may be familiar from other Milliways patrons, but strangely enough, the feeling isn't one of threat, exactly. More like watching a thunderstorm or a blizzard from a safe distance.

[will_scarlett]

Will began the day back in Nottingham, having two wanna be bounty hunters attack him, the violence is familiar, its more the large bear in armor that's got him at a loss.

In the end, years of polite upbringing, well cuffs from lords win out and he bows to Iorek and grimaces at his ribs,

"Forgive me.." He stops to read the sign again, "Lord Byrnison, I meant na offense."

[panser_bjorn]

"You are wounded." He points out a tad flatly. These human things, the titles and ceremonies, still disconcert him. "You shouldn't bow like that. It must hurt."

The armored bear tilts his head slightly, regarding Will in a thoughtful way for a moment. "You didn't offend me. I realize, from what I have been told, there are people from many different places here, and not all know of the Panserbjorne." To be true, he doesn't seem the least bit offended. But then again, he is quite hard to read for a human.

[will_scarlett]

Will stands up slowly since it does hurt and he's thrown off again, he's never had that reaction to a bow before, "Aye, milord. I'm from England or Earth if tis easier, just ne'er seen..."

He really doesn't know the word to use here and fiddles with his sleeve trying to find a way to not be rude as he thinks of being yelled at by Spoon for treating him the wrong way and a bit of fear too. Its been a rather long day already so he's not at his quickest.

[panser_bjorn]

"Must be a different Earth and a different England from the ones I know, then." There is something like a faint hint of amusement, a barely-seen curl of a smile, noticed more in the gaze than the mouth.

"Never seen a bear that could talk, is that? Do not worry. I am getting used to it. But please, do not call me lord. I am lord to no human. Just Iorek Byrnison. And how should I call you?"

[will_scarlett]

Will's not sure how to react to that bit of amusement or to being told to call this armored bear by name or the proper way to say his name or address him,

"Nay, sir, Will Scarlett o'Nottingham, year o'our lord 1138."

The bow starts again from habit, but Will stops himself, gently touching his cracked ribs not sure what to do next.

[panser_bjorn]

"Good, Will Scarlett. And if our Earths go by the same reckoning of time, I think we are from very different times. I have been told it can happen here, too." A pause, a momentary gaze towards one of the walls, then he returns his dark eyes to Will's face.

"A strange place, this."

[will_scarlett]

"Aye, sir, probably are, tis few 'nough folks from anywhere near me time."

Will follows his gaze wondering if perhaps Iorek is Bound, "Aye, tis, sir."

[panser_bjorn]

"Iorek. Not 'sir'." The voice is calm, devoid of annoyance or displeasure. The great bullet-shaped head looks from Will to the sign, then back.

"I must ask, though, are you the blacksmith? I saw you reading the sign I put up."

[will_scarlett]

"Nay, s..Iorek, was just curious was all, smithin's ne'er an easy skill is all."

And a small part of Will's mind has been noting the quality of Iorek's armor and comparing to what he's seen in Nottingham, thinking of arrowheads needed and too few smiths to help the outlaws as the tax draws near.

[panser_bjorn]

"To my people, it's as necessary as breathing. That's what Panserbjorne means. The bears in armor."

Iorek's armor looks crude at first, unadorned and thick. Then you notice the way the large sheets and plates of metal are hinged and interlocked, angled to deflect blows, and artfully covering the bear's joints as well as the larger surfaces of his body, and the illusion of crudeness is dispelled. It is, in fact, a master smith's work.

[will_scarlett]

Will can't help but note the skill and fineness of the armor, he knows that a weapon need not be beautiful to be deadly.

The sword at his side was made by a master smith yet is simple as is the knife on his belt,

"Then I'm sure the smiths 'ere an the other warriors will be glad ye would offer to spend some time in the forge, s...Iorek."

[panser_bjorn]

Iorek has noticed the sword and knife. Together with the wounds, those tell a certain bit of a story.

"I have noticed there seems to be many of us warrior types in this place. Either that, or we tend to run into each other." Which wouldn't be all that strange. Usually, one can tell the signs, and having something in common is one good reason to start a conversation.

[will_scarlett]

"Aye, s...Iorek, tis a fair few. Who else 'ave ye spoken to?"

Ah stories are always getting Will in trouble, his most recent injury came from some men thinking that they could take on Will and John because of the tales they'd heard.

[panser_bjorn]

Iorek remains in thoughtful silence for a few moments.

"Aside from meeting a few old friends" He isn't going to tell their names for now. Both Serafina Pekkala and Lyra have shown a tendency to make enemies easily. "I've spoken to one Belar and two soldiers, a Lieutenant Muldoon and one Harry Wells."