As expected of a rag-tag band that was half-assedly shoved together and then left to slowly fall apart, there were insults, glances and an almighty air of mistrust and tension that Brynn was sure he'd have to wear horker-hide overalls to slosh through. Many people offered up plans but all of them were different, almost everyone set on being the leader. It took all he had not to step forward, slash the throat of the big orc and set things up just right with him at the head. That's what got him in chains in the first place, being that kind of leader. A small, sharp amount of violence to avoid a larger catastrophe somewhere down the road was not what was needed with this kind of band. At least with these people, they didn't look too likely to be caught rummaging through his things while he slept. Except one, that mousy little lad staring at him. When his eyes practically whirled around to look inside his head when he caught himself staring, Brynn let go a wolf's grin. The Redguard stopped talking by then and he seemed a cool-headed sort, “I agree with our man here, talking of ale and plans.”

He fixed each man and woman and piss-skin and giant green cunt with his wolf-grinned gaze. “Anyone who doesn't, we don't need. Feel free to walk back into town and ask for what the rest of this place got if you've any quarrels with being hired help.” He shrugged then, an easy smile on his face like he addressed old mates, “Or, we can all waltz merrily to Camlorn. I'm sure as shit not losing my head because I didn't like who was holding the axe over it, if you get my meaning,” And he nodded to the other Reachman, the one with as many tattoos as petty insults, “You've got the right of it, friend. You, our Redguard lad, and this mousy soft-voiced beggar. Like it or not, we're all friends and companions now. You're all friends with the jolly Blood-Red Brynn, at that. Let's strike out, shall we?”

And he began to walk down the road with his hand on the head of handaxe in its loop, close behind Cyrendil, “Either way, I'm going. Hop along, mousy lad, 'less you won't have anyone watching your back with that big green mammoth turd at your heels.”