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"Y-you speak truth," the Hanged Man softly said as Nix reassured him. He smiled briefly, just as warped and ugly as it had been earlier when they were still by the puddle of black ooze--though this time the expression reached his eyes, warming it up somewhat. As the girl finished with the buckles of his breastplate, he undid the ones over his shoulders, allowing the breastplate to come apart in two pieces, a front and a back. He stacked one inside the other and laid them on the chair as well. Underneath, he wore a padded gambeson, rumpled and a little sweaty. "Now these, p-please," he said, extending both arms towards her. He wore gauntlets over heavy gloves, each with a couple small buckles over the forearms holding them firmly in place. If she watched his hands, she might notice that they spasmed every so often. He hoped she would continue to assist him despite the vomit and ooze flecking the gauntlets. He also didn't think to offer her his own name, unless she asked.

(Good plan--it's a little out of character for Hangman to let Sol out of his sight so easily, what with the significance he has assigned to him, but I can work with it easily enough )

Phoenixheart, being the observant girl that she was, noticed the spasms of the Hanged Man's hands. She looked at the hands with a concerned expression for a brief moment, but decided not to comment on it. She wasn't squeamish about the vomit or ooze that flecked the gloves, so she continued to assist them with no evident hesitation. As she was helping, realization that she didn't know the man's name struck her and she tried to sound as casual as possible as she said "You know, I don't think I ever caught your name before."

(Great! Glad it works out. )

The young lady had indeed been gone a while, yet the only sounds offered are thankfully soft footsteps, and that is only if individuals have the skill to hear such faint noise above. Though the length of time is surely understandable, for removing such formal attire without assistance can grow rather tedious indeed. Thankfully, Carabia managed with time! The steps creak lightly beneath bare feet now, stepping into view upon reaching the ground floor once more. "Is anyone hungry? I have bread, and a little meat left. I find it makes some perfect, though light meals while on the road." She offers with a smile, lowering upon one of the couches near the lit fireplace. Carabia slides the bag's leather strap free from a shoulder at long last, seating Dembala upon her lap comfortably. The white night gown is simple for comfort, for fancy wear is hardly needed overnight!

Aya had nodded her agreeance regarding Brolin's absence. She was also shocked to hear about Nixy's young age until she remembered she was only a little bit older then that when she left home to become a cleric. She then nodded her agreeance with Ver once more.
When Crow began to remove his armour, she thought that would be a good idea herself. IF there was anything to worry about, she could probably manage with her spells. May as well be comfortable. She removed the simple armour she wore by releasing the few buckles and other fastenings. A simple breastplate; light shoulder, upper arm, and forearm plates, and padded leather from her thighs and shins. Humble equipment. It wasn't much and it's design allowed her quick movements with her staff. Underneath she wore dark trousers tucked into soft leather boots, and a khaki green tunic. A blue sash was tied around her middle and her divine symbol hung around her neck. Her blonde hair fell down over her shoulders.
She stashed the collection in her corner with her bag and staff. Then, stomach growling once more, pulled her saved loaf from her bag. She looked at it and started salavating at the idea of having honey with it. A bowl of soup too. And a hot glass of cider! She looked at the inn's kitchen.
"Yes" She responded to Cara's question as she pondered what the pantry's contents would be "I'm hungry. Is honey expensive in this area?"

"I see o'im missed." Brolin called out sarcastically from the front porch of the Inn, the closed door banging loudly as the man kicked it several times with his newly-acquired boots. Steel plating hammered in to a puckered point appeared to be added just recently to the toes of the darkened leather footing- proving deadly as they bore splintered holes in the wood.

Aside from the boots, Brolin wore less than when they found him- A simple tunic folded and tied around the thin mans waist. Skin nearly dyed black from the goo crusting to him in layers.

"Let us in, ya?" He'd yell, banging on the door with dirty fists. Brolin had been drinking, that much apparent from his behavior- joking tones said from a man who seemed content enough to take the entire door down with him if they took too long to let him in.

Two large travel boxes rested on each side of him, set down to free fists for more door punching.

"Ná dhéanamh dom fanacht, nó beidh mé tús a dhéanamh duit imíonn! Ceann ar cheann, is óige den chéad uair!"

As the gauntlet buckles came free, the Hanged Man gingerly pulled off each metal-clad glove and laid them on the ground for cleaning. Beneath was an ugly sight: the bare skin of his forearms and hands, not an inch spared from the ravage of old injuries. Deep furrows and gouges crisscrossed his skin like valleys, alongside grotesque ridges of shiny pale scar tissue. Every so often his fingers seized up or twitched--it was clear that this was no mere cosmetic damage. With a wince, he rolled the sleeves of his robe up to the elbow, letting his mangled skin breathe.

"I am called the--the Hanged Man," he replied to Nix, slowly massaging each of his palms. His left hand seemed a little worse off overall, with a burl of scar at the heart of his left palm. "But I've many other names, too. Some call me old crow, wearer-of-war, oathbreaker ..." He reached for a flask hanging from his belt, pausing to take a sip of whatever foul-smelling liquor lurked within. "Call me what you wish."

He looked over to Aya, who was removing her own armor with considerably more success than he. Her glance towards the kitchens didn't go unnoticed, and he chuckled softly. "I apologize, Master Ver, but I-I fully intend on raiding their pantry--"

Shouting and banging from the door made the Hanged Man bristle, reaching for his absent sword. He sprang to his feet, favoring the left one as he went to fetch falchion and shield from where they leaned against the wall. "Master Brolin?" he called, recognizing the thick brogue. Outside, the crows atop the inn shuffled and croaked unhappily at the rude interruption. The swordsman unlatched the door and stepped aside, not wanting it to swing in so quickly on its hinges that he get bopped in the nose. He was only armored in sabatons and greaves now, with his torso clad in an outlandish robe and his disfigured forearms bare. "Bones, be quiet. There's a well 'round back by the stables you use to bathe."

Carabia finds her head tilting gently to one side, curls of ivory pouring forth in doing so. "Expensive?" Her tone carries a confused flavour. "I wish not to disrespect, but there is no one to pay for the inn's remaining food. Yet leaving it be would waste everything, too." Carabia answers Aya. She knows of the work and time placed into every loaf, every ingredient for delightful soup. Given everyone's disappearance, ignoring all this abandoned food would mean allowing everything to rot away. That hardly serves a purpose. In any case, she knows that voice anywhere! "Mister Brolin!" Carabia calls towards him cheerily, laughing softly at his obvious sarcasm. Such a charmer.

With a cheeky grin, she adds on. "Níl, nach bhfuil an duine is óige den chéad uair! Beidh tú chailleann mé i bhfad ró." Every syllable pronounced not only correctly, but smoothly as well, for fluent could be an understatement. Crimson hues then rise towards The Hanged Man, patiently waiting for him to finish listing names. "..Or Mister Hangy." She chimes in with an affectionate smile. While she notices the scarred arms, she offers no outward sign. Like most of the party, she too had changed into something more comfortable, a cozy white night gown. Still sat upon the couch comfortably, a baby gorilla leaning back upon her lap. "I would like to eat here, too. I wonder what soup they have.."

Ver's eyes rested on the Hanged Man's hand as he replied simply, "I won't try to stop any of you. We all must eat." Something he knew a bit too well. At least it was... only theft...
He swivelled his head towards the door, but shocked expression very quickly turned to exasperation. "... Ah. It seems he's survived." Seeing the Hanged Man had the door covered, Ver turned his attention to his own gear. Perhaps simple in comparison, he'd designed the jacket he wore for convenience - once his sword belt was off, it took only a main zipper to drop the dragonscale. He left on the matching boots, their red and silver standing out sorely against otherwise dark clothes. He cast one more glance at Brolin, looking weary, before he sat on the ground next to his stuff and the fire.

Phoenixheart tilted her head a bit as the Hanged Man said his names. They all semed like odd names to her and she wondered why he had those names, but she decided not to pry. She then noticed all the scarring on his arms and hands, and she glanced at them with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She jumped as she heard banging on the door, but relaxed a bit when she realized that ut was Brolin. Her stomach growled a bit at the mention of food. She didn't know the last time she had eaten before waking up and getting caught up in all of these events.

Aya forgot all about honey when Brolin's banging began and she caught up her staff in shock. Common tongue she knew, and banging on door she knew - usually to be something threatening. She didn't know the foreign tongue he shouted out, or that Carabia responded in and she was curious about what it meant. As intoxicated as Brolin seemed she wasn't sure what to expect.

"What was that you said?" She made her way over to the girl and her familiar, eye catching the nightgown she wore for the first time. It was very cute! What a luxury to feel comfortable in something like that in a place like this. She muttered her question to her, arms folded around her quarterstaff. "And that he said, for that matter?"

Drunken, hazed eyes met Hangy's own when the door was opened. Jokingly, Brolin made one more loud kick to the frame of the door in disruption to the request he stay quiet. He stood for a moment- simply staring down Hangman's own mysterious optics.

Whispered between the two, Brolin mumbled a hushed threat as he passed Hangy on his way in to the room. "It'll jus' be you an' I at some point, two titans refusing t' fall. All your brawn, all yer muscles put t' test."

Unless that predicted clash started now, Brolin made his way to the center of the room- dragging his cases behind him. Carabia's fluent tounge in Gael caught him by suprise. "Pointe maith." He responded with a wink and a grin, blatantly ignoring the requests to translate.

"I prepared a w- hiccup wagon. Took off unnecessary weight so Li'l Cara's familiar can pull it." He educated, already on his way towards the stables Hangy had pointed out.

"Shall th' men join me for bath?" A wicked smile crossed over his lips, and a mischievous furl of the brown at Ay. "Or softer comp'ny.. matters naught."

"I've got a feeling you'll be bathing alone, drunkard," Ver shifted to look at Brolin. His expression contained very little malice; more a combination of surprise and, well, not surprised. His eyes still lingered on the newer pieces of his ensemble, though not for long. "Keep your eyes peeled out there. It's getting pretty dark." With that, he turned away, attention now on drawing his ponytail loose and brushing his fingers through his hair.

The Hanged Man responded as much to Brolin's whispered threat as a mountainside would. His expression was hard, his eyes cold as those of a dead man, and he offered no attempt at witty retort--all he did was take a step aside and permit the Gael entry. The swordsman, too, had the smell of alcohol on his breath, albeit just a trace.

"Perhaps later," he replied at the offer of bathing, going to assume his seat near the fire again. From his pack he procured a hard-bristled brush and a rag, and he began to clean his gauntlets and boots. The fire at his back was warm and revitalizing, and his stomach gurgled hungrily, though he ignored it.

To Nix, who looked a little lost, he said, "I-I can find the pantry once I am done here, and we shall sup. They are likely to have salt beef, perhaps some onions ..."

It seems she cannot help but lift an eyebrow gently, a little surprised with Ver's response. Still, he's surely a little thankful to have another in the party. Right? Ahem. "Much appreciated, Mister Ver." She answers softly, grateful that there isn't some huge fuss regarding the inn's food. Chin tilts upwards once Aya approaches, casting her a gentle smile. "He said we had better let him in. I answered that he missed me too much. Worry not, Mister Brolin just seems a little....Well, tipsy." Carabia offers, her manner relaxed despite this odd situation.

Perhaps just comfortable now she is finally resting indoors, not to mention among others after travelling alone. With Brolin offering another answer in further Gaelic, she cannot keep from laughing softly at the words. "A wagon? Tis' not a bad idea at all." She offers nothing in regards to bathing, given her intention to stay put this evening. Soft snores begin to surface from Dembala, the now baby gorilla curling against her front. One arm lifts to better cradle him. "Sounds like a plan." She answers simply to Hangy, curious gaze slipping towards his armour.

(Ignore this! Accidental click!)

"You are very comfortable with him, aren't you" Aya said in response to Carabia's answer to her question as she looked over Brolin entering the inn. Aya was curious about the change in attire Brolin had acquired, as well as his boxes of....something. He was still dirty though, if not dirtier, and in response to his offer she met the rough man's gaze with disdain. She had the quick thought of herself scrubbing his back while giggling about his strength like she would occasionally see silly flirtatious girls do for travelers. She was not amused by the idea.

"Ver is right. If you want softer company, you best look elsewhere." Looking away from brutish Brolin, she sat next to Carabia by the fire and examined her fingernails. She did not cast evil spells, but she swore to herself that no matter how 'harmless' Brolin could be considered, if he dared try to act on his ill-mannered comments - drunk or not - she would curse him with a disease.

Her stomach growled again and she took a piece of bread off of her loaf to stick into her mouth. It was good, but yes it did need honey.

"Aye, there's nae softer comp'ny than Ver." He'd respond Ay, blowing noisy kisses to Ver from across the room.

One case was set by the front door, the other dragged with him towards the back.

"Offer stands." He'd grunt, once again taking exit from the group.

She feels both eyebrows lift gently, the mild surprise evident by this simple gesture alone. "You really think so?" Before speaking further, her gaze settles upon Brolin for a time. "Truthfully, we do not know one another too well. But I met him plenty of times, he has always seemed friendly." She offers honestly, only adding this after the fellow in question exits for bath time. Granted his sense of humour likely offends certain folk, yet Brolin has always appeared harmless enough! She casts Aya a warm smile as she lowers to sit beside her, doing well to curl her Scorpion tail towards her opposite side.

It would be a shame if the tail left the lady nervous, after all. Carabia lifts wrapped bread from her own bag now, settling it between herself and Aya. Silently offering to share, of course! She gently rips smaller pieces from this soft loaf, chewing thoughtfully as Dembala snores against her cradled arm. "Miss Aya? Would you care to share a room once we retire? I would sleep easier knowing some of us remained in pairs or more. But if you wish to have more privacy, I completely understand."

Ver didn't look back, wrinkling his nose. "Flirt like a gentleman," he murmured, the last part not quite loud enough for him to hear.
He glances up at Aya and Carabia. "Sleeping in groups or pairs sounds ideal for now. If I may, I'd say we take a stretch of rooms near together so it's easier for the guard." He looked to Hangy now. "And you, don't hesitate to wake someone else if you feel you can't last the night."

Phoenixheart watched the proceedings quietly. It was at this point that she seemed to just remember that she had her own bag with her. Granted it wasn't very noticeable as it had a similar design to her dress and mostly blended in with it. She wondered why she had brought it with her. She didn't usually bring it with her unless she knew that she was going on quite a long journey. She opened the bag to find that it was seemingly empty, but this didn't really surprise her. Face scrunching up a bit in concentration, she reached into the bag and drew out an apple. She then drew out a loaf of bread, some meat and some cheese with a curious expression on her face. She then reached in and pulled out an orange hoodie with two barely noticeable slots in the back of it. She felt a bit relieved when she saw the hoodie. At least she knew she had something to help keep her warm if it got colder. She slipped the hoodie on and slid her wings through the slots in the back. Lastly, she reached into the bag and pulled out an old t-shirt and some pajama bottoms. She simply looked at the items that she had pulled out of the bag and mumbled "Why did I pack this stuff? Ugh, wish I could remember what happened before I woke up..." Wanting to satisfy her hunger a bit, she picked up the apple and munched on it while continuing to stare at the items in thought.