[h2]Helbronn[/h2]
Addressed: [@Rodiak]
[h3]On a verdant road...[/h3]
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[img]https://i.imgur.com/AJ1QZxF.jpg[/img]
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[b]For the Lady.[/b]

He followed the Call. The Call that was heard by none but him. He knew not where the Call led, he knew not what the Call demanded, but he was knight, and follow the Call he did. Perhaps eventually it would lead him to the Lady, but thus far it only ever led him towards Purpose. What was the difference? He could assume, but he could not tell. So long as it served, he would comply.

The knight's iron-gaze fell upon a battered cambion and a bloodied man.

Slowly, deliberately, Helbronn marched towards the debacle. Paradoxically, he appeared to emit no sound, not a single clink of metal or step, not even a single twig or leaf breaking underneath his pace. To some it might have appeared as if he was simply striding without effort, a bizarre sight unbefitting such a massive frame, but in truth each and every one of his steps was precise and efficient, allowing no waste of energy or space as he walked in eerie silence.

The battered cambion limped across the forest-floor, feet clumsied by blood-loss and fright, the bloodied man menaced upon her, sword in hand, self-satisfied grin upon his features.

The scratched-up bandit advanced, barking another threat, readying to strike down the cowering cambion.

With a resounding CRACK Helbronn's final step impacted with force upon the forest-floor, the wood underneath his boot giving a resounding tearing-sound as he came to a halt directly behind the man. Turning around in surprise, the bloodied bandit gave a shocked wince as he suddenly noticed the armored giant that for all he knew just appeared out of thin air a few paces from him. Staring up at the towering knight, the man froze in uncertain fright.

Returning the man's confused gaze with baleful iron-sight, the knight only spoke with a dry snarl "[b]Cease. Desist.[/b]" before resuming his stride, forcing the man to step aside, lest he be stepped upon.

Leaving the stupefied man behind, the knight marched towards the wounded cambion. Coming to a halt before the horned humanoid, the helmeted gaze scanned the broken arrow-sticks poking out of her crimson-stained flesh and cloth. These would require surgery, followed by weeks if not months of constant reapplication of linen and honey.

"[b]Damsel.[/b]" he addressed the cambion, tilting his head as he scrutinized her "[b]Maiden. Hail. I am I, Sir Helbronn, knight of the Lady.[/b]" his harsh voice sucked all that could be deemed as welcoming from the greeting "[b]Would you enlist me, accept my aid?[/b]"

It took the bloodied bandit behind the knight a few more seconds to catch himself, one hand tightly clutching his sword as he bellowed over "You- you'd side with a tripple-fucked horned hell-whore who'll backstab you the first chance she gets?!" the hesitation slowly left his voice, replaced by anger originating from a hunter that was about to have his prey snatched from him.

"[b]Yes.[/b]" came the simple answer from the knight, helmeted gaze remaining affixed upon the cambion, not deigning to waste another glance upon the bandit.

Momentarily taken aback by the apparent innoculousnness of the answer, the man ground his teeth "That horned bitch is a murderer! She killed my mates! And now that I have her cornered, about to get some justice, you get in my way!"

Helbronn spoke "[b]I know, one that advances upon another locked in fright with sadism in sight rarely does so with any good right. You have a sword, she does not. You have most of your blood, she does not. It is not the responsibility of knights errant to discover whether the oppressed whom they encounter are reduced to these circumstances and suffer this distress for their vices, or for their virtues.[/b]" his voice held no malice, and even its usual dryness was diminished, replaced with conviction "[b]The knight's sole responsibility is to succour them as people in need, having eyes only for their sufferings, not for their misdeeds.[/b]"

The man was seething now, sword twitching in his hand with building rage overriding whatever instincts might have told him to flee from the knight, the armored giant that resolutely kept his back to him, not even bothering to address the bandit with his sight. Glowering in silence, the idea that with the cambion obviousely incapable of throwing her remaining lot into a fight, all he really would have to overcome was the arrogant errant with his back to him was forming in his anger-hazed mind.

Slowly, with silence practiced by years of robberies, the armed man advanced upon the duo, intent on finishing the job he set out to do.