Use a Warhammer (Male, Black-Scaled Anthro)

...You run back into your room and grab your hammer, a double-handed, armour-smashing piece of war materiel, off the hook it hangs on. Ordinarily, you'd grab your spear, too, but it broke after you accidentally caught the knight with it, rather than the horse, and you still haven't found a blacksmith or soldier to steal another one from.

You crash down the wooden stairs to the tower's entrance, quite literally. You either break or knock out of place most of the wooden slats. That's okay though, you don't plan to be heading back upstairs, and if you did want to, well, you've got wings.

You hear a whinny from outside, then the clank of armour. The knight must be dismounting. You step back into the shadows, behind an old cabinet, grinning a rather nasty grin. With your black scales, you blend right in with the darkness and the soot-stained walls. Of course, some might say that scales that black reflect your soul, but...

You hear a sword being drawn and a "Face me, spawn of darkness! Face your purifier, Sir Paxton!", and push idle speculation about scale colour and its impact on morality from your mind. You have a knight to deal with, after all.

He steps through the doorway, resplendent in his shining suit of steel armour, glinting in the morning sun, the helmet off to give you a view of his long blonde hair and hard-chiselled, heroic features. His broadsword was forged straight and true, of the best steel in the land. His shield, also a creation of fine and pure steel, has a cross emblazoned on the front. From his shoulders hangs a tabard, green with a yellow sword-pierced sun.

You wait for him to go past your hiding spot before jumping out and bringing the hammer around in an arc, a soft hiss of air accompanying the swing until the blunt end smashes into his unarmoured head with a savage crunch. Too easy.