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[h2][color=64520A][i][b]Daxos Ironbow[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=64520A]Dwarf, Rogue, Thief, Level [/color]05[/b][/i]
[color=64520A][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 43 / 43	[color=64520A][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 14	[color=64520A][i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=64520A][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] The Coach House
[color=64520A][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] Meeting the group
[color=64520A][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=64520A][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
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[right][img]https://i.ibb.co/p67XnxBB/IMG-0542.jpg[/img][/right]
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Daxos dipped his head respectfully toward Lizbeth, one hand lightly touching his chest in a gesture more formal than his usual mannerisms would suggest.
[color=64520a][b]“Aye, well… the master’s a guid soul. Ah only did what any dwarf wi’ a shred o’ decency would’ve done. If he needs help again, ye just point me in the right direction.”[/b][/color]

He turned next to Kathryn, returning her curtsy with a small but well-practiced bow—one clearly carried over from his life before exile.
[color=64520a][b]“An’ the pleasure’s mine, lass. Yer manners do ye credit. Pyke, was it? Fine name. Rolls off the tongue nice enough.”[/b][/color]
His grin sharpened playfully.
[color=64520a][b]“Daxos is what they call me—Dax, if ye’d rather save breath.”[/b][/color]

As Blackberry busied himself with the pot, Daxos walked over, boots thudding softly on the wooden floor.
[color=64520a][b]“Tea’ll suit me just fine, friend. Anythin’ warm that disnae taste like boiled socks is a treasure in these parts.”[/b][/color]

He settled into a nearby chair, crossing his arms as he surveyed the small gathering—eyes flicking between them with a quick, measuring sharpness. After a quiet beat, he leaned slightly toward Blackberry and added under his breath:
[color=64520a][b]“Quite the lot ye’ve gathered here. Anyone speakin’ o’ necromancy so openly… well, that tells me they can handle themselves in just about any scrape, eh?”[/b][/color]

For the briefest heartbeat, his gaze hardened—cold, calculating, the look of a man who weighed every word and every move. Then, just as fast, it melted into a booming, good-natured laugh.
[color=64520a][b]“Hah! Ah’d like tae see that someday, truth be told. Necromancy’s rare where I’m from—an’ rarer still tae meet folk who dinnae whisper the word like it’s a curse.”[/b][/color]

He reclined back, expression warm once more, though the earlier glint hinted at deeper layers beneath the easy humor.