For a long wavering moment, he would continue to squint at the young man, seeming to size him up, everything from the way his shoulders were built, to the way he carried the wooden sword.  “Right fancy at talkin' already is ye, boy?”  Yet the older man was grinning, a right strange expression upon the grizzled face.  “Well, ain't no time like t'present t'be knowin' how things be..”  The man looking around at the seeming hovel, his eyes meeting Jira's for a moment before he would move towards the rundown building.<br/><br/>“We do nae have t'luxury of time..”  The large man stopping to spit to the side of the door before disappearing inside, with a wave of his hand towards the two who were still standing before the run down cabin.  Jira would take a moment to adjust her belt, giving Kinngar a long, measuring look, as if seeing him for the first time.  And then following Telgryn into the building. Inside, the bigger man was nowhere to be seen.  The building itself seemed to encompass just one room.  Though that one room was cluttered.. A broken chair leaning against one wall, several barrels and dried furs heaped haphazardly.  A grimy table seeming to dominate, though Telgryn was no where to be seen.<br/><br/>Her nose crinkling for a moment at the heavy stench of the place.  The stench of the furs, the scent of an animal's nest likely somewhere within the mess.. Her gaze sweeping the room to find her old Master, only to catch the edge of darkness behind the barrels, some sort of hidden doorway, likely invisible when it was not opened.  Without hesitation she would move towards it, sliding downwards into the darkness.<br/><br/>Her rough and calloused digits would brush against the wall beside her head, following the contours of it, though it seemed a straight enough corridor.  The steps rough-hewn, a mixture of hard packed earth and natural stone edifice.  The dim glow of a flickering flame would quickly outline the path before her, the flames light capricious, throwing shadows with wild abandon around the place where they now found themselves.  Compared to the upstairs, the small gathering of rooms was strangely pristine.  A mat lying against the far wall, a table set up with maps and compasses, and various other items scattered about the top..<br/><br/>Through the stone-archway, rough though it might be, one could see the glimmer of light off metal.  Weapons, armor, the pure magnitude of the selection was amazing.  As if every piece of old armor from the village had been collected, shined until it gleamed, and then stored within this hiding place.<br/><br/>“T'ain't a moment t'spare..”  The older man already gathering a few items that could be termed.. 'Practice weapons'.  A halberd.  A sword.  Several daggers.  All seemingly thick and well carved, likely to add weight.  Though as Kinngar would come down the stairs, his eyes might be drawn to a single suit of mail at the center of the room beyond them.  A familiar icon upon the proud chest.  The only seeming full set in attendance..