Watching the small woman intently the outlander paid no immediate mind to the familiar footfall and voice that arrived behind him while he stood low to the ground, attempting to understand the halfling's wounded person; there were two other sets of boots, metallic ones like the other guardsmen, that had accompanied the governor to his ascent here. While these added persons were new to what it was Brannor had witnessed previously in their meetings tonight, they were of no concern for the moment. As it was they all smelled of men, not a single one of them having that pungent, offensive odor the kobolds or the larger draconic beast they fought in the port carried.

So, as she was his focus, he paid her mind rather than diverting his attention. Parum's soft blue eyes appeared just as wide even now after their short reprieve, while the rest of her took deep breaths into her tiny chest and managed her internalized fears. Slinking away some she wiped her lips, speaking to him after as he remained not far and still undisturbed from his initial position.

[i]"Hello Brannor. I'm sorry, I just... I just need some time alone." [/i]

"Parum, I..." Brannor trailed off, searching for his words when the governor spoke, shifting the man's glance back to the source of the sound.

[i]"Ah, you are here. I was considering to send someone looking for you. Come with me onto the roof of this tower, if you would. And if you know where to look for the cleric that was with you, they are welcome as well."[/i]

The moment of outreach faded as duty called, or rather asked of them now again; Brannor was an outsider, not only to Greenest but the civilized world as a whole. It had been years, more than he could accurately recall as he tracked the passage of time by the moons, since he rested more than a few days in any one village or town. Never before had he so much as offered his assistance either, but tonight what else was he to have done? The deepest portions of what made up his essence, his very soul pulled him in this direction in compulsion he could not deny - all they had done had to have been for something, was that clear only to him? He needed to restore Parum's focus, really her hope and her heart.

Without another word however, before he could so much as hope to respond, the young woman turned and started her way up the stairs behind the entourage, leaving the hunter crouched upon the floor with his aged cloak draped across his shoulders. It was an uncomfortable, unwelcome feeling that came to him when she walked away. The anger within him found no hold upon his thoughts of her, but instead the invaders.

Parum was one small example, as was the mad half blood, the traveled elder, or the green priestess each in their own right. Yet, in comparison to them all, it was how they stole away her heart the most that drew his ire and caused the beast within to come alive; Brannor did not carry his distinct weapon just for the pleasure of swordplay, but because it allowed him a focus to channel that divine, primal wrath through as another conduit. It enabled him to characterize that fury into something and both in figurative and literal sense, cut down that which he instinctively loathed. That realization of seeing her so distraught, how she turned away from his willingness to understand her plight, added incentive to kill everyone and everything that dared consort with the dragon. 

He rose unerringly to his natural posture after, now better understanding the effect this raid had on those even less hardened than her - why it was important for him to see the young woman this way.

"I understand now, Parum." Brannor's voice said in a softened tone.

Once he looked out the doorway to the ramparts, then to the winding path the others took to the area above. The hunter reached for the holy woman's name in memory, finding nothing to latch on upon at first; like a cliff face that had given away and now left bare stone in place of holds. It took him walking to the rampart again where he had initially set off to see her and call out to her in deep tone.

"Priestess, we have been summoned."

[i]Kyra[/i] was her name, difficult as that was to recall having known her for less than an hour, as the most his mind thought of her in reflection was how her divine matron provided her blessing and the familiar yet strangely off the blessing she provided was. Putting a face to the name again outside the chaos of battle alleviated this issue some, but it would take effort to recall, more so now that the large knight the wild felt the longing for the hunt again already. The reinforcement of her and her person was what he thought of as he advanced up the steps and loomed not far from Governor Nighthill and the others as they overlooked the keep and the smoldering fires that dotted Greenest.

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