[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Small Hours of Day Four [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] The Group [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	Gretchin did seem the type to partake in the wonder that was Dwarven spirits, although she seemed sated by her own bottle of nerve tonic. Perhaps even the stuff that she had was of better quality than the solidly pronounced (yet subtly nuanced) notes of earth-and-oak aged, traditionally distilled Dwarven spirits; the type of alcohol produced with the collective knowledge of countless generations of a long lived, often perfectionist race. That being said, the stuff could peel the varnish off a footlocker. Maybe it was best she stuck to her own brand. 

	What did surprise him was the healer, Satilla, taking him up on his offer. He wasn't going to take it back, but he did feel the need to give a word of encouragement. Or a warning. 

	[color=b8860b]"Y'might ought take that snort slow an' easy, Miss. I bloody start fires with this stuff, yeah?"[/color]

	Keystone looked down at Sana, still in the same state she was five minutes prior. If this is what you got for channeling magic through your body, he wanted nothing to do with it. Still, her spell did very likely save all of them, though the cost was high. The underclass brawler wanted very much to be far away from this place; all of them. Well, most of them. Someplace removed from ice and dirt to sit upon, with a warm, glowing hearth and a kitchen full of yummy things being prepared. Home would have been lovely. Hell, he'd settle for a more or less decent tavern, so long as it had walls and a roof. A bed for his Bard friend with thick blankets, too. Of course, the nearest place for any of this, so far as he was aware, was three days' journey south of their present location. 

	Through an Undead infested forest. [color=b8860b]"...peachy..."[/color]

	[color=b8860b]"Right, look all... Terms of our contract're up. We can't hang about with the Orcs forever, right? Wherever the arse Cremwise is at, if he's not a fonging pincushion, he'd agree. I'm needin' to resupply. If we sod off from 'ere come daybreak, we can make it back to Salarn 'fore I run outta solid foodstuffs for us all."[/color] 

	[color=b8860b]"O'course, we gotta make arrangements for Sana. Wagon, litter we can drag, somethin', if she don't wake up strong an' soon."[/color]