Watching as the man scribed the answers he so sought, there was a lull in conversation for a moment; the captain had done something to garner the elf's attention and she pried with just as much point and forwardness as one of her arrows. The other man proved to shake his head, gathering his tools and ink while heading off again. Perhaps there was some sort of formality that he expected in particular, maybe he was not fond of the ranger or the half orc-blooded warrior, or mayhap it was all born of this city's siege. Regardless of what it was, Brannor could not hold it against him - at least not now. If there was time or opportunity, the huntsman would rather be enjoying a strong mead, ale or even wine and songs strung upon a lute if his bloodied fist could get ahold of it at the moment; everyone present had some issue to contend with and in some shade.

Brannor's eye however, caught sight a dwarf whose trim and dress were thick with primal garb, by no means light statements either. He appeared and disappeared as quickly as he could, busied by some matter and rightfully so given today; the stout man's mantle of furs and hide speaking to the spirit-warrior. It was an odd sense of familiarity, even through the dim light that the powerful human's eyes cut through. There were those who belonged here, some more than others, then those who clearly did not.

What had attracted so many wildmen or soldiers of the wilderness to Greenest? Was it the same calling and draw? Certainly they were all quite different, but all similar be them the huntress with her bow or the savage with his spears and broad blades. At least there existed some sense of union among them in that. Some safety normally forfeit.

[i]"I could have been sure that big monk man was here just a moment ago... well, if you catch him before I'm back they should be able to show the way. Not a part of the guard, that man, but they've been helping like they were. And if you could carry private Slackman with you... that would be appreciated."[/i]

Brannor provided a slight nod of his head to the guardsman, looking to his other cohorts and the staggered soldier. To his heart, he felt that the man should be able to see himself to the quarters; he had earned as much to not limp or lag about from his fatigue and sufferings. Owing to this, the man in green cloak drew near the soldier, presenting a gloved palm. Brannor laid it upon him without further word and again small vapors of white essence tugged themselves into reality at his fingers into the point of contact; far more verdant and vibrant emerald at their source, they dissipated into ever whitening wisps and the new light source vanished, the sturdy stone walls turning dimly lit once more.

[hider=Effect]
Brannor uses his ability to [i]Lay on Hands[/i] on Private Slackman and restore 1 hit point. This ability is now exhausted for the day.
[/hider]
It was a taxing thing to endure, to try to will a part of one's soul into a channel for the world divine, but it was a worthy burden to bear. Rewarding at that no less, the sort of means to stay the hand of death and turn back those who abused its power. If the man wasn't fully awake already, there would be no doubt now that he felt reinvigorated once more.

[@Hekazu][@Lucius Cypher][@Ryonara][@Raijinslayer][@Phoenix]