Patience had once more paid for itself, avoiding a bloody conflict that would have done good to none at all. The lone man was, just as he seemed, quite alone and sorely put into a position of what could have been swift death; the raiders struck in gangs, many of whom were at least capable enough with bows to hit their marks or lucky enough with their stones. It was divine providence these turn of events that the corporal was not only present, but that he was in fact seeking anyone else who had escaped the raid and that by equal fortune, the cadre and their armed escort stayed their armed hands.

Relaxing the string of the aged weapon, the knocked arrow drooping against Brannor's now crimson tinged leather gloves, he exhaled calmly. This was more than he could have hoped for, let alone expected, for both better and worse. Watching the injured Cuth, the outlander was pleased the two seemed so friendly toward one another as unless magic was at play, which it seemed not to be in large short of the power the dragon surely commanded, there was no reason to disbelieve the exchange playing out before him. It was owing to this that the large human stood, revealing himself fully from his shadowed concealment.

He followed without a word, stubbled jaw closed and senses opened.

Piercing the night with the gold that was his vibrant, beastly eyes, the knight-aspirant soon found himself in the lantern lit and candle glow of the tremendous keep's stony walls; the door behind their collective shutting with a deep metallic echo. Men set about reinforcing the barricade, wisely so if the invaders found themselves so bold as to copy their presumed master and descend upon the keep. It was only now the huntsman shouldered the bow, string across his breast and arrow sheathed to its mates in quiver.

Some of the more senior men, as Brannor took it by their wear and the aging that had set in on their figures, exchanged names and words that were of some importance. Whatever they were, he would not know - at least now - for even his previous stay in the now ruined city of Greenest was brief, limited. It still lingered upon the man, the fire of battle having grown cool in his heart now and thought allowing itself to sink in; the wilderness had called him back, seeking, searching - this likely preserved his life whereas he would have undoubtedly perished fighting the overwhelming invaders had he not.

Approaching, having turned both himself and his attention away, the captain of the guard spoke to the group. 

[i]"And that leaves you people. I presume I have you to thank for saving some of our good people, so it would be good to have you in my books. Please. Names and occupations."[/i]

Perhaps it was defiance in Brannor's untamed spirit that did not wish to entertain this question, but it was his personal honor that kept it in check; if they were to be recognized, even if only as ink upon a page, the young paladin wished for this act of selflessness and defiance to the dark to be recorded. Looking down ever so slightly, he thought for a moment how to introduce himself in a manner most befitting.

"I am Brannor, huntsman and aspirant of the [i]Silver Lady[/i]." His tone remained steady as there was no doubt about his claim - his ornate talisman and set of hide, leather and chain draped in a hunter's cloak spoke to this. The build and presence he carried himself with seemed to ward any suspicious as well, be it his golden eyes or his engraved sword.

[@Hekazu][@Lucius Cypher][@Ryonara]