The stranger looking knight that hid his face was used to being the subject of stares.  The silvery mail that he wore was usually hidden beneath as much as he could in tabards and robes, but there was a point where you couldn't swathe yourself too much and still be able to actually fight, and it was clear this one was indeed a fighter.  No horse, just a few packs over his shoulder, a sword and shield across his back, and of course, his face hidden from the nose up, and his skin a healthy bronzed tan like someone who had spent his life in the desert.  He was just another traveler passing through, but after a few hours even he was able to hear some of the gossip.  The strange things.  By the time he was ready to call it a night after tending the three shrines, he was considering if this town perhaps could use his services, just to help with a few of the odds and ends.<br/><br/>And then came the scream.  He was on his feet in a heart beat, rushing from the shrine.  He had left his packs there, unneeded or wanted.  What was important was what was always close at hand; the sturdy shield with the scales painted on them, and the long sword that was always strapped to his back.  That was what was important.<br/><br/>Rushing forward, the armored pilgrim's hood had fallen back, revealing that the cowl was around his entire head, tied at the back of his skull with the rest of the cloth falling back into his cloak, like a strange grey mockery of how a pirate often would conceal his brow.  He stopped short when he saw the... thing, slimy and twisted, but that lasted only a moment.  The man had been injured.  That was the important part.