[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Sana, Nor, Femnal [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	The itinerant brawler known as Keystone assaulted his first steak with arbitrary vigor. Fork met steak, steak met teeth, piece gets torn away and consumed. Seemed to fit. Now, once upon a time, the large man was of the opinion that [i]forks[/i] and the like were to be reserved for special occasions. Luckily, his years of travel and training had exposed him to a slightly more sophisticated standard of living, and from many different cultural sources. Slightly. Hence the now common use of flatware. He expected a bit of hassle whenever he found his way back home for his newfound (if minor) refinement. Of course, he had progressed so very much since then, and he was already one of the best bareknuckle pugilists of his home city. Keystone could stomp the unholy snot out of anyone masochistic enough to so much as titter at him. 

	The first couple of bites down, Keystone decided to actually use a knife. He selected his favorite blade from the back of his belt, the large, bone handled seax that never seemed to dull nor tarnish. It was a masterful piece of work, and it did a masterful piece of work on the chunk of seared cowflesh on the plate in front of him. 

	Sana rattled off the probable locations of the rest of the group. So they might be a little while. [color=b8860b]"Right then. I'll try an' save 'em a steak or two. No promises."[/color] he noted the discomfort with which she was slowly taking to her mashed potatoes. [color=b8860b]"Ah, um... I can run in back and grab some broth, if that does it better for ya. Or, that gravy's a bloody meal by itself, Miss Sana."[/color] There was quiet concern in his voice, and he stood ready to move at a moment's notice. He still had at his steak, though, manners not being his strongest suit. 

	The actions of the previously unknown Dwarf struck Keystone as odd. Slightly odder was the best verbal example of "looking a gift horse in the mouth" that he had witnessed in quite a while, not including the last time someone gave him a horse and he actually asked how its teeth were. Not his finest moment. But just now, if seemed as if he were being accused of something. He responded slowly, maintaining the offered eye contact. [color=b8860b]"Best I can tell, these folk butchered an' restocked in short order, 'fore this place got sat on by bony frigs, yeah? Not a whole lot of folk left what could eat it, if'n they're dead or runnoft, yeah?"[/color] Keystone shoved another piece of steak into his mouth and nodded his head at the kitchen door, [color=b8860b]"Sodders back there? They left Femnal 'ere with a bloody scullery lad to handle everything by his lonesome, an' that poor bastich needs 'elp slicin' breads, he does."[/color] At this moment, the hulking culinarian would have loved to continue the staring contest, but he had a fried egg or two he needed to inhale. 

	With limited satisfaction, he noted that Femnal indeed did join them, [i]and[/i] brought the beverages as requested. Keystone claimed a tankard of local ale for himself. He took a long pull before clanking it back upon the table nearby. A telltale bubbling sputtered from his stomach directly afterwards, compelling Keystone to turn his head to the side before a sizeable belch roared from his gullet; it lasted a mere three seconds, but echoed lightly in the mostly unoccupied public room. [color=b8860b]"Yeah, ah... 'xcuse."[/color] He looked to Femnal, [color=b8860b]"Many thanks for gettin' that stuff together for us all timely and whatnot, yeah? Couplea questions, though... One, I'm lookin' to provision what's left of my group for the 'Uge Soddin' Off Party what'll take us far from this place, whenever the right people get hammered broken an' bloody. You got tons back there. Giant metric wanktonnage, can be prepped for long use. We're gonna talk 'bout that."[/color] Another piece of steak down, followed by the large man ripping off a chunk of bread and hitting it liberally with whipped butter and minced herbs. The conversation he wanted to have with the Gnome proprietor was of a serious nature, but it was akin to a verbal fishing expedition. [color=b8860b]"Look, we've been out to Orc territory, yeah? I ain't thinkin' they're the ones what coulda woke up that much dead folks. Anyone here got that kinda pull?"[/color]