The weight of the familiar sword bound in leather at its grip was a welcome sensation to the man, an all too welcome one at this time. At the heft of the blade and the pat of the savage's hand, the man could only grin in the dark. There was an eagerness to the weapon, a conduit of the person who bore it and its atypical design at that; simultaneously ceremonial and mystical. It was that voiceless voice that spoke to him and had him so adorn it with inscriptions, the same sensation that returned to him when it rest in hand now. Only this time it would be adorned in the lifeblood of the cult - perhaps not here and now on this night, but in time coming.

Accompanying the sizable sword was the blade and the bow, along with a quiver of arrows, which the outlander soon shouldered in quick succession, tightening the broad belt across his chest and joining it with the string of one of the weapons. So too did the knife fall into the sheath upon and belt, leaving Brannor once again as armed as he ever was, nodding to Orchid.

"A good start." He muttered softly, turning to depart, unaware he might be well accompanied. Sharing one last glance to them, he shrugged, "We will see if they can be freed, if at all. Let's not forget why we were here in the first place."

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