”Easy, girl, easy, if you're smelling a bear it's probably me.” The knight spoke softly as he tried to soothe the horse's nerves. The war horse was new to the knight, he had only had the beast now for a couple of days and the mare was still getting used to him. The knight, despite his looks, as no human and the horse was picking up on that from his scent, able to know a predator when she smelled one. But so far she hadn't bolted from him which was good, she was well trained indeed. Lokir was just under six feet tall, a little more with his full armour on, but the horse stood taller still, she had to be strong to carry a heavy knight like Lokir in full suit and kit. Not to mention she came with her own set of plate armour, covering her whole body, even her throat with spikes on her snout just in case.

But Lokit hadn't thought of a name yet so for now she was nameless, but he'd think of something eventually. For the moment he was travelling through the Virens Forest from Vilpamolan heading towards the mountains to cut through the pass to head back to Adeluna. It was different for him with a horse since for all the time before that he travelled on foot or by the grace of someone willing to give him a ride in a wagon or carriage. He had known how to ride, it had been part of his knightly training after all, but he had never bothered with a mount since he didn't think they'd get along with him because of his blood.

The afternoon was cool at least so it wasn't sweltering under his armour, though he had strapped his helm on the saddle for now, no need to have it on. Lokir's black and white armour was unpolished, he didn't like it shiny, too distracting, he liked it as it was, a little dusty, obviously used, and repaired a few times in places.

So far it was a peaceful ride through the forest, he never worried about wild predators bothering him, they usually caught the scent of him and what he was and left him alone, knowing a larger predator when they saw it. He was kind of hoping for an easy trip to the city this time, it would allow him to get used to the saddle again and allow the war horse to get bettered used to him as well.

But, often do things go the way we want them to?

It had been a long journey, and they still had a long way to go. The merchant caravan has departed Adeluna City months ago, slowly snaking its way north across the Adelunan countryside, stopping at every town and large village along the way to trade. Eventually they broke into the Bohar plains, swinging east to wind their way along the southern edge of the plains in the shadow of the Ancense Mountains. There they traded with plainsmen and highlanders alike, though from time to time the wild men of the plains would gather in large warbands and attack the wagon train. Simon had already been in half a dozen battles and skirmishes on this wagon train bound for Sularia. At the eastern end of the plains, the wagon train swung north, threading through the western edge of the Virens Forest to trade with the logging towns nestled within the sea of green. 

Count Simon de Montefort was a tall man, broad of shoulder and well-muscled. With a straight nose and a strong jaw, he sported ivory skin and piercing blue eyes from below a mop of raven hair. He was in his early thirties now, the veteran of a hundred battles. His body was littered with scars, but the only one on his face was a small line that ran over his left eye. The Knight was dressed in simple brown roughspun tunic and trousers, with a green cloak over leather shoulder pauldrons. On one arm he bore a wooden kite shield, and on his hip was a broadsword in a simple leather scabbard that matched his brown boots. Unmounted, he rode on the front of the third wagon down the line next to the driver. It was meager wear for such as him. The Count had been rich once, back in his homeland. He'd once had a fine castle, a mount, armor, and lance as befitting a Knight. That all changed one night as a storm swept up one of his war galleys with him on board. When they came out of the storm they were before the unfamiliar shores of Canelux, and were wrecked off the coast of Adeluna. What he wore had been all he had managed to recover in his rush to escape the sinking ship. To his knowledge he was the lone survivor. Now it was up to him to find any other of his men who might have come to Canelux, including his son. That was why he had taken this job guarding a cross-continental caravan, so that he might search for them. Besides, the money would help him to buy new equipment, so that he might be a proper Knight once more.

Simon watched the trees roll by, forest pressing in all around them. It was difficult to see very far in the dense undergrowth, something that set Simon ill at ease. A guard needed to see to properly guard. The wagon train rolled lazily through the quiet forest, the squeak of their axles the loudest sound. That's strange, Simon thought, why is it so quiet? Forests were normally a cacophony of insects, birds, and other calling animals. Something was wrong. 

Gazing about, he caught a shadow of movement in the canopy above. "Watch out!" Simon shouted, standing and drawing his sword an instant before the attack was upon them. Arrows flew from the trees, sending multiple guards screaming to the ground. Men rushed out from the undergrowth, and dropped down onto the wagons from the canopy above. Two landed on Simon's wagon, his driver yelping in fear as they crashed into the good behind him. Turning, Simon delivered a sweeping backhanded blow that caught the nearest bandit in the knee as he stood. The man cried out in agony, clutching at the stump of his leg as he rolled off the wagon to fall to the hard forest floor. Simon hurdled the seat onto the back of the wagon, raising his shield against a flurry of blows from the second bandit's sword. Simon backed toward the edge of the wagon, weathering the frenzied assault. 

Finally he was in position, and now he saw his moment. After an overhand blow caught the lip of his shield and bit in the bandit had to wrench it free, the force of the pull leaving him open for a second. Simon thrust forward with his broadsword. The blade plunged into the bandit's belly. As the bandit looked down in disbelief Simon stepped out and turned, wrenching the bandit around to the wagon's edge. He thrust forward with his sword arm again, sending his foe off the wagon's edge. The bandit fell off his sword and to the ground below. 

Wagon cleared, Simon cast about looking for who might be in command of this attack. Cut the head off the snake and the body will die…

As Lokir continued his peaceful way through the forest trail, he noticed his mount's ears twitch about and then both focus ahead on the path. That was strange, since Lokir could hear nothing at the moment, which meant the horse could at a great distance and it was more important than anything else to her. With nothing he could do about it at the moment Lokir continued on, heading in that direction anyway so he just kept on going.

However, not too long after his horse became agitated at the same time Lokir could hear the sounds of a battle ahead. Ah, so that was it, there was fighting ahead and that was what the horse had heard before and now more so and could probably smell any blood that had been split. Lokir urged her on but made no attempt to rush in, he had no idea who or what was fighting and it way well be it would be in his best interest to stay out of it. In his time of travelling to help those who needed it, more than a few times he had come across people who didn't want help, regardless of their situation at the moment, and told him to mind his own business. Which was fair, he supposed, it was their life after all at the end of the day, to with what they wanted. There were times he'd intervene anyway and worry about the consequences afterwards, but he would read the situation first all the same to make sure.

Getting closer Lokir halted his mount and just listened, steel on steel, shouting and screaming and the cries of the wounded. He dropped from his horse and threw her lead over a branch to keep her from bolting and hung his bastard sword at his hip as he walked forward to see what was going on more. Bandits. They were preying on a wagon train and the merchants and guards were fighting with all they had against the highwaymen. Lokir hated this kind of scum, some of the lowest beings around that preyed on merchants like this.

Lokir snarled under his helm as he placed it on his head and started to step forward, his heavy armour making him stand out easily to anyone looking in his direction. Lokir had his hand on the hilt of his bastard sword but stopped just outside of getting dragged into the direct fighting as he quickly scanned the people to make sure he knew who was on what side of things in this mess of a fight.

[OOC: Feel free to attack Lokir :P ]

Glancing up, Simon noticed a shadow in the branches above. He managed to lift his shield just in time. It reverberated as a black-fletched arrow bit into it with a dull thud. "Limon!" he shouted to the archer on the next wagon over, "archers in the canopy!" With his broadsword he pointed at the shadow in the branches. The longbowman nodded and sent a shot up into the canopy. An instant later a body came crashing into the forest floor. Another one down, he thought with a grim smile.

Standing on the wagon, Simon surveyed the chaos around him. Bandits were jumping out of the branches above and exploding from the undergrowth all around, assaulting the wagon train from all sides. Arrows arced at them from all these directions as well. This is a lot of highwayman, much more than your standard group of forest bandits. What had they stumbled upon here?

Simon soon found out. Turning, he saw a dark figure on a large steed. It seemed he was surveying the battle before him. By the plate mail he wore and the barding of his warhorse, the Count knew at once that he was a Knight. His colors were black and white, though Simon recognized not the device upon his shield. A robber Knight, he knew at once, he must be their leader. It made sense: many Knights could find themselves without a lord to serve through one way or another, and some took to preying upon the weak to maintain their existence. Such loathsome oathbreakers were even known to draw numbers of unsavory men to them to form large bandit bands, such as the one they now faced.

A hard look fell upon the white knight's face. He knew what he had to do. Leaping from the wagon, he began making his way toward the rise where the Robber Knight waited. It took Simon longer to reach his foe than he'd hoped: multiple bandits got in his way as he progressed, forcing him to pause long enough to dispatch them until he could continue on. Luckily, the leader of the band made no move to flee or enter the fray.

Finally, Simon drew up before him, shield and sword upraised. "Oathbreaker!" he shouted, pointing the sword at him, "Foul knave! I am Count Simon de Montefort, the White Knight of the South, and I challenge you to single combat. Dismount and bare your steel, Ser, if any honor still lives within you."

Simon stood at the ready, awaiting the man's response. A false Knight such as he was more likely to try to ride him down then to dismount and meet him fairly, so he determined to be ready for anything. Let's see what this man's made of.

Lokir was soon to join the fight, having figured out who was who in this brawl before him, so far he had been left alone. He hadn't started fighting either side so so far anyone who had noticed him watching had left him alone, until now. A man fought his way over to Lokir, tall and handsome, he was dressed simply with a green cloak and leather pauldrons, wielding a broadsword and a kite shield. Lokir under his helm had a puzzled look for a moment when the man shouted at him, with weapon and shield raised, calling Lokir an oathbreaker and foul knave.

It took a moment but then it clicked in Lokir's mind; this man thought he was part of the bandits! Well that wouldn't do, not at all. Curious though, that the man would know to call Lokir an oathbreaker, not a term used often outside of those who knew what that unwanted title could mean when invoked against certain people.

Lokir stepped forward a few steps so that they wouldn't need to shout at each other anymore, hand on his blade but he had not drawn it. ”I am no bandit, good sir, of that I can assure you. I was travelling the road when I heard the fight and came to investigate, I was judging the situation to know for sure who was on what side before I entered the fight myself.” Lokir explained keeping his voice even and calm. ”If you want I can assist you in..”

He stopped mid-sentence and raised his left arm up even with his face and made a first. There was a “twang” sound from Lokir's gauntlet and a crossbow bolt from a hidden mechanism shot out towards Simon. But it wasn't aimed for him, instead it buried itself into the throat of a bandit that had been behind him creeping up hoping that Lokir was enough of a distraction for Simon so he could stab Simon in the back. He dropped grabbing at his throat as the air and blood left his body along with his life.

Some of the bandits had seen this action taken by Lokir, and now knew where he stood in the fight. Lokir gave a dry chuckle from under his helm as he drew his heavy bastard sword from its sheath. ”Seems I'm in the fight now anyway. Now do you believe me?” Lokir asked turning his hidden face to Simon for a moment as he raised his blade against the few bandits who were surrounding the two knights. They had taken the distractions available to get into position around them and were carefully closing in.

Steel met steel as one of the bandits attacked Lokir first to start the fight, but Lokir pushed back hard and staggered the man, who hadn't expected the inhuman strength of Lokir. Lokir's blade, Peacemaker, gutted the man where he stood and now that Lokir's sword was moving he'd keep it moving until there was no bandits left to kill.

Simon cocked an eyebrow at the mounted warrior before him. He was certainly well spoken for a hedge knight, the Count had to give him that. But it was his words that took Simon aback. What're the chances that a Hedge Knight would stumble upon us out here in this wilderness, so far from Adeluna? His offer of help could be just a trick to lull Simon into letting his guard down…

Suddenly the mystery Knight lifted his arm at Simon. Too late he lifted his shield, but the quarrel soared past his head and landed with a thunk behind him. Simon heard a groan, and turned to behold a bandit not ten feet away. The man clutched at his throat as he sank to the dirt, eyes wide as his hands tried in vain to staunch the flow of blood. 

The White Knight turned back to the large Knight before him, drawing his bastard sword with a chuckle. Simon inclined his head with gratitude. "I owe you my life, Ser, my apologies for doubting your chivalry." He would have said something more, but he noticed the small group of bandits who had stole into positions all around them. Turning to fight back-to-back with his newfound ally, Simon met the oncoming attack with shield high and sword in hand. 

From a young age he had trained to fight multiple opponents simultaneously. His father had made a habit of pitting Simon against two, three, even four opponents in the training yard. Single combat only happens in tourneys, duels, and songs, his father had told him, but in real battle your foes will come at you in force, from all around. Simon smirked as the encircling bandits closed in. How right he was.

The seasoned Knight of Montefort stepped in as four bandits moved into a semicircle around him. Time slowed as the song of swords began. He held his shield high to the left to block the blows of the left two bandits while he swiped at the next to the right. As he faded back from the blow Simon lashed out with a savaged sidekick that collapsed backward the lead knee of the bandit furthest to his right. The man fell with a scream as Simon lifted his left leg over a low swipe from the left. He stepped back in with that leg - bashing the middle bandit hard in the chest. The man staggered backward as the rightmost bandit came back in - right into his sword thrust. Two to go.

Simon yelped as a sword bit into his upper back on the left side. The leftmost bandit had circled around his shield and landed a hard cut. Luckily his leather pauldron had caught the edge of the blade, though it bit deeply nonetheless. Instead of turning to meet him Simon rushed forward, creating distance and catching up with the bandit who had reeled from his bash. He feinted low, then brought his blade around his foe's parry and brought it down betwixt neck and shoulder - so hard that it clove clean to the collarbone. The bandit crumpled, bringing Simon's sword down with it. 

There was no time to retrieve the blade. Spinning, Simon knelt and lifted his shield against the bandit who had cut him before. As expected he had been hot on his heels. A downward stroke thudded off his shield, then another, and another. As the bandit retracted his sword off the third strike Simon dove forward, scooping his foe's ankle with his free hand and dumping him to the ground. The Knight wasted no time jumping onto the man, driving the point of the kite shield down into his head again and again until it was nothing more than a bloody mess. Simon stood from the twitching body, turning to pull his sword from the other corpse with a grunt. Wincing at the pain in his back, he turned to regard Lokir as he mopped up the last of his bandits. "Well struck Ser," he called, "now we must attend to the caravan." 

Simon pointed with his sword down the hill at the wagon train. The merchants and peasant guardsmen were faring far worse than the two Knights. In fact it seemed they were on the verge of breaking. They needed help, and fast.

Lokir's defence of the armour-less knight seemed proof enough that the black knight was on the side of the caravan against the bandits. But now the fight was on as multiple bandits attacked at the same time both knights, swords drawn, Lokir took one down quickly, but now the rest attacked together. While Simon had a shield would be faster than Lokir without armour, Lokir's heavy heavy would allow him to shrug off blow or make them strike where he wanted them to. He was trained to not only use his armour as protection, but as a weapon if needed, combined with his ability to conjure weapons of magic and Lokir could, in theory, be prepared for any situation.

The waist length cape that hung off of Lokit's back fluttered as moved lashing out at the bandits as they came in range of his sword. Two of the four caught Lokir's blade with their own as the last two came in on either side of the knight. Growling under his helm Lokir turned that into a chuckle as he moved his left hand from the hilt of his sword to the middle of the blade, using his glove to not cut himself. With his left hand now alone keeping the two bandits locked in to struggling against Lokir's strength, that left his right hand free.

Within his grasp suddenly appeared a flail of grey swirling magic, but as he swung the weapon at the surprised bandit on his right it proved solid as it connected with his left leg sending him crying to the ground in pain. There was a loud clank as the bandit on Lokir's left struck, connecting with Lokir's left arm at the chainmail. Lokir could feel the blow on his arm, chain wasn't great at taking away the impact of a weapon just the sharp parts, even pointy weapons could get through at time. With a grunt Lokir pushed against the two men in front of him pushing them back as he turned while swinging the flail. It caught the bandit's head with a sickening crunch and he dropped to the ground dead.

The fail dissipated as Lokir got Peacemaker back into a proper grip again as the two bandits attacked while the third staggered to his feet with a limp. To him Lokir spun his blade around and then threw it impaling the poor bloke and dropping him back to the ground again. In his hands now appeared two cutlasses of grey magic, simply because of his weapon conjuring magic Lokir had trained in many kinds of weapons.

The last two bandits attacked together, and Lokir repelled their attack, but one had a sneaky attack to use against someone like Lokir who had suck kind of armour. When Lokir was distracted for a moment by the other man, he pulled a thinly blades rapier from a hidden sheath on his back and targeted a weak point in Lokir's armour. Lokir snarled in pain as he felt the thin blade puncture into his side, where the top half and bottom half of his armour met it was a leather belt and clasps around in places that connected the two. But too allow him to bend over forward some protection had to be excluded for such movement making a weakness in his defence that the bandit had identified.
What the bandit hadn't expected was Lokir's pain tolerance and the armoured knight in his newly found bit of rage from being wounded spun in place and used a gloved hand to backhand the bandit in the face. That sent him reeling but it left the rapier caught in Lokir's side, bounding up and down on the thin blade as he moved which caused more pain and made it dig in further, the damn thing had barbs on it! Such a good weapon for a bandit to have, it must have been stolen.

Now angry Lokir turned his full attention to the last bandit who wasn't liking his chances anymore, even with the sword still sticking out of Lokir's side. The two cutlasses disappeared and Lokir's soon held a scythe instead, at this bandit dropped his weapon and made to run, but Lokir was faster. The scythe moved in a fast diagonal slash as Lokir lunged forward, the bandit screamed in pain as a line of blood formed up his back. It gave Lokir enough time to bring the scythe back around and take the bandit's head off cleanly.

His work done Lokir allowed the scythe to dissipate from his hands as he snarled while he hauled the barbed rapier from his side. He could feel blood in his armour now, which wasn't comfortable, but the job wasn't totally done yet. Simon spoke up and Lokir turned to him while retrieving Peacemaker from the corpse it was impaled in. ”You as well, and, yes, we must.” Lokir agreed and Lokir started to run down the hill towards the fighting before the caravan guardsmen broke against the bandits' attack.

With the two seasoned knights in the mix they helped push back the bandits, but the attackers didn't look like they were going to give up so easily. From the trees two distinct roars could be heard close by and some of the bandits backed away smiling bringing the fight to a momentary pause. Sword Lokir looked in the direction of the roars, what did they have? He didn't need to wait long as a large bandit came out of the trees, before him on chain leashes were two armoured tigers, larger than normal, snarling and growling, ready to kill.

Lokir turned fully to face the beasts a dry chuckle echoed from under his helm. ”Here kitty kitty kitty.” Lokir sing songed with the same chuckle as he sheathed and then removed said sheath from his belt and set it aside, glancing to Simon. ”I've got the kittens.” It was easy to hear the smile on his face despite the helm as he stepped up, much to the humour of their handler.

Lokir started his shift under his armour keeping it slow for the moment as the two tigers roared, trying to get off their leads, which were obviously enchanted to keep them under control. In reply to their roar Lokir chuckled again before taking a breath and letting out his own deeper inhuman roar, wiping the smile from the handler's face.

Lokir dropped to all fours as his body started to shift faster now, his armour shifting with him. After not being able to find armour that fit his other form, and realizing that he'd not be able to get into it without help if he had found armour, Lokir had taken a different direction with his thinking. Instead of new armour, he had had his normal set of black and while armour enchanted to shift with him. So, after a moment Lokir no longer stood there as a human wearing heavy armour.

Instead, he was an eight foot long, two thousand pound grey furred bear, wearing heavy armour. His armour wasn't fully covering him, it was designed for maximum movement allowance, but protected his back and some of his belly, his legs where there were no joints and a helm, but no lower half of it. Not perfect protection, but more than normal for a bear.

Getting up on his back legs Lokir let out a roar again before dropping to all fours and charging the two tigers before they were unleashed. The two cats, too used to attacking squishy humans, balked for a moment at the predator charging them, larger than both cats combined, until their handlers let them go and prodded them with a stick.

But Lokir had gotten up to speed and like a rhino just charged forward as the two cats leaped at him. But his weight and momentum allowed him to knock them both aside with ease as for the moment he ignored them and charged the bandit handler. He tried to get away but Lokir trampled over him, stopped, turned and rose up on his back legs again, bringing both front legs down on the bandit's chest crushing in his rib cage. He was dead instantly.

With him dead the armoured bear snarled as the two cats had come back and were stalking on either side of him. The one to Lokir's left attacked first so Lokir ignored it and charged the one of his right, making the first cat's leap too short and taking the other by surprise. But the left tiger still did its best as it and Lokir collided. The tiger went for Lokir's throat but the knight was expecting that, predators were predators and went for quickest ways to kill, for the most part. Lokir pulled his head back and lowered it using his helm to guard him, and here was a further divide between himself and the wild cats; the knowledge of how to use the armour they were wearing. The cat tried to bite down the top of his head, and Lokir allowed it, but his helm prevented the angry kitty from doing any meaningful damage.

With the tiger frustrated Lokir bucked his head up forcing his helm into the cat's open mouth as it was moving it away. Taken by surprise that gave Lokir an opening but the second cat got into things by leaping onto Lokir's back now, clawing and snarling any anything it could. It claws did find flesh now and then and Lokir growled with the pain, but he was getting angry and angry bear Lokir ignored pain and injury.

Ignoring the one his back for the moment Lokir took a swipe at the tiger that wasn't on him, but its reflexes allowed him to flinch back in time. But Lokir followed it and swiped again, but it dodged the swipe, a swipe that could easily stun it if it connected. The tiger on Lokir's back was still snarling, scratching and biting, and it was really getting on his nerves. Lokir shook his body like a bog trying to shake the cat off but it held on.

At that distraction the other cat attacked again, one more going for Lokir's otherwise exposed face and throat. But Lokir was no fool and saw it coming and struck out again with a heavy paw, while it missed the tiger's face it still connected and sent the tiger sprawling off balance. That gave Lokir the opening to deal with his piggy backer, raising up on his back legs and then quickly falling backwards. The tiger saw what was happening just a little late in his own rage fuelled attack, and while it did manage to leap it didn't get far enough. Lokir's bulk came down on his back end, crushing its back legs making it yowl in pain as it tried to crawl away. But its pain was short lived as Lokir was back to his feet and clamped his jaw around the tiger's throat, crushing down with enough force to make the spine snap and sinew break and tear.

Releasing the dead tiger Lokir had the now enraged one leap at him again, it managing to find a gap in Lokir's right flank and sink its fangs into. Lokir roared in pain at that time, and tried to turn to face the tiger, who wasn't letting go for anything and followed the turn, denying Lokir a way to attack it. Roaring again Lokir opened his maw and magic formed therein, and after a moment, like the scythe and cutlasses, a seven foot long Zweihänder sword of grey magic appeared in Lokir's mouth. With that he was able to swing his head to the side and catch the tiger in side, making it mewl in pain and release its grip on him as blood started to flow from his flank.

With the cat off of him Lokir quickly turned to face it again, the Zweihänder dissipated as he released it. In pain the now feral tiger charged Lokir and Lokir charged it, when they came together it was over quickly. Lokir used the beast's rage against it and got his maw around the tiger's somewhat protected shoulder, crushing down and shattering the shoulder itself. That left the tiger open enough for Lokir to crush down on its throat in the same manner he had the other tiger, and soon both lay dead before the great bear.

That fight over Lokir looked around at the rest of the bandits, and anyone else watching, giving out a road, challenging anyone else to attack him.

[OOC: Hope you enjoyed! Lol Do as you like with the rest of the bandits, and I'll have Lokir get out of bear form and his armour next post!]