"Take your leave when you can," The huntsman mentioned in what one could assume was casual for him in both gesture and tone, removing a hand from the stonework and motioning to the side leading back down to the keep's stairs, "I will think nothing less of your doing so."

It replaced itself thereafter, leaving the unusual, towering paladin back where he was to begin with. The words, like anything else about him, were as forthcoming and as direct as they could be; conjured from a place of honesty, even if it were blunt and with relative if not absolute disregard for station. He was an outsider to Greenest, even if he were one of its "saviors", but more than anything a man well outside the line of the realm and its dominion. Not that he was evading them with some criminal purpose, instead it was born of his very person and relation to the world around him. It was a simple matter of necessity to be as far from these things as possible. This gave great weight of reason to those times when Brannor was called to places such as this city, even if he knew no conscious reason. Wanderer or not by blood, he had not the opportunity or drive to delve into the finer intricacies that came with civilized folk and their magnitudes of authority.

The times like this, where real danger was afoot - or at least had been earlier on in the night, particularly with the blue scaled fiend - there was no time to care as to who was who; only what was what mattered. If man or woman needed rest, they took it. If they took it at the cost of others and added peril, there was none to blame but them for that. Undoubtedly if Governor Nighthill, as battered as he was still, took his rest someone would step in for him if not his armed and armored liaison who joined them here out in the night air.

"I doubt many would argue at this hour as it were..." The whisper spoken beneath breath still was throatily rumbled by Brannor thereafter, looking over the town. 

The druid, or some form of naturalistic wizard as he too might have been, the savage only wondering now truly what the man was or did, offered his elaborations in the meantime, capturing the present audience in his characteristically bizarre and esoteric speech. Torus was an odd man, even among men, while Parum and Orchid were both familiar - the same for Longwater and Nighthill. He was the tipping, perhaps slightly addled wisdom to the naïve intellect and personable persistence of the halfling. Orchid and himself? They were, for lack of better words, violent spirits by nature - the half blood seemed to thrill for battle, but posed a sort of practicality and insightfulness not known or expected among orcs. Brannor was his own animal, something intense and focused, inherently otherworldly.

Kyra? The young priestess was their outlier in her own way. She like the other two more naturally inclined fellows clearly had some relation to the [i]Silver Lady's[/i] will, some all too familiar. Perhaps when they rested and set out on what would surely be a long walk there would be time to discern just what this all meant, but now? Now the question came to mind where the other two wandered off to. Not that they were departing as of yet, such an effort would have been suicidal from fatigue alone, rather that they needed to be aware of just what was being said here.

[@Hekazu][@Ryonara][@Lucius Cypher][@Gordian Nought][@Norschtalen]