As the last bandit scampered away, Aodh approached the stairs. Mausen had very nearly chased the last man out of the building, but at his command, he skidded to a halt. Now, the dog stood by the door, baying for blood-- and keeping the patrons uneasily at bay.<br/><br/><br/>Aodh peered up, eyeing the troupe at the crest of the stairs. He neglected to pull away the hood from his face,  throwing shadows over the thick bush of beard.<em>"Who are you?"</em>the man asked, and Aodh offered a smile in return, warming his tired features, though doing little to soften them. "Whom are you less likely to kill?" he asked in return, shifting a little to peer behind him. Mausen had stopped his howling, although he remained vigilantly posted by the door, and the room was fairly empty. He turned back to the stairs, tugging the hood off his haphazardly cut hair, matching the scraggly facial hair. He was thin-- wasted, even-- he would have been handsome, but his cheeks were too hollow, his face too hard and pale like bone. Only his eyes betrayed a hint of life, gleaming with quiet intelligence, amber rings alert and shifting. He took the adventurer's in; three Guardians and a Magus.<br/><br/>"They said the Order couriers would be here, except you are... Mismatched. Too much muscle..." As Aodh made his comments, his eyes briefly drifted over fighter-- at least, he assumed. Aodh had always thought they wore a tad more armor.<em>Incompetent,</em>he mused, and the association was made. The smile draining from his face and his eyes locked on the woman, Aodh asked, "Are you Cairn?"