[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] His own seething rage, mostly. [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	Surprise brought Keystone to his feet. A massive, vertical slab of ice splitting open with a solid [i]crack[/i], spilling a ton of previously ambient moisture onto the ground in waves will do that to a person. Sana's sudden explosion into the waking world was a bit of startle, but not something with the pants-darkening potential of a wall of ice immediately converting into the secondmost mobile state of physical matter. 

	Keystone grabbed his pack and sought to lift Sana from the ground as the freezing water quickly made their campsite unpleasant. He noted with a defining lack of enthusiasm that the water had not only soaked the ground around them, but instantly put out their small campfire, eliminating any chance at the base luxuries of civilized existence. He sighed heavily into the gloom of the approaching morning. He remarked about his feelings on the subject with a slow, even voice, his tone tinged with sardonic irritation. [color=b8860b]"Jolly. There went tea, chance at bacon, and any sodding possibility of salvagin' an hour of three's rest 'fore we piss off out of 'ere. And I do intend pissin' off, thankya."[/color] 

	[color=b8860b]"I'm done with today. Day ain't bloody started yet, and I'm done. Fonging Mulligan, or somethin'."[/color] 

	Complaints aside, he did note with raised hopes that Sana was coming through her little ordeal. The coincidence that she regained her senses at the exact moment the ice broke was not lost on him, though further than that observation he could only speculate through a remarkably cloudy lens. Keystone was no spellcaster. His voice quieted as he posed Sana a query, [color=b8860b]Oy, have a nice nap, didja? You good?"[/color]