Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three
Interacting With: The Group
Keystone looked around the fire, noting the faces missing. A good half of the group, for one reason or another, had decided that it was a good time to leave when the food was more than halfway prepared. He growled absently. They were a team in name only. Not that Keystone was the regimented, ordered type, but he felt that a point of common sense was being ignored. All the same, no one was dead yet, so far as he was aware. That meant they still had time to come together. Or run their separate ways as hard and fast as possible, at their earliest opportunity. Could go either way with these people.
The massive pugilist had already torn halfway through his pheasant and neeps, and was beginning to relate the terms offered by the Orc Chief. The party Healer, Satilla, was the first to speak up, asking about said terms. Keystone swallowed hard, preparing to answer her, but was beaten to the task by Kyra. She summed it up nicely: They were to negotiate a treaty with Salarn, leaving one of theirs behind as insurance. Keystone could think of one or two of them he wouldn't mind
skipping out on in the middle of the night trusting to be the party's Ambassador to these people.
His face now clear of savory meat & veggies, he spoke up, wagging a thumb at Kyra.
"..<burp>.. Yeah, what she said." Truly a man of eloquence.
It was at this point that he really noticed that Sana had sat down next to him. Not to say that she was invisible or being stealthy earlier, just that it registered with him - the spots open, especially now that half their group was busy elsewhere, and she opted to share breathable air with him, voluntarily. She was a brave woman, obviously. Concerned that she would notice him staring, he snapped his head back around and grabbed a helping of rice.
Luckily (sort of), his ocular transgression was covered nicely by the minor argument between Sana and Kyra. Keystone wisely stayed out of it. The last thing he needed was to involve himself in the serrated caterwauling of two experienced archers in the middle of a possibly undead-infested wood, surrounded by Orcs that were unsure as to their motivation. Especially when the two knew each other very well. Oh no, Keystone was going to let this play out. Instead, he reached over and splatted a small serving of stewed rabbit onto his rice. It had been a little while since he had eaten his absolute fill. Now that there was enough food to do so without shorting anyone else in the group, that's precisely what he intended to do.
He wasn't thinking about the possible consequences of that decision.
Two of his group returned, right about then. The third Archer, and the very quest-oriented Elf.
"Gretchin. Colcannon. Good of ya t'join." He waved to the food set out and returned his attention to his own, mildly annoyed. They were still down two. All the same, Keystone wanted to address a matter in front of them, one they had not gotten around to as of yet.
"Right... Look, I'd 'ave preferred all of us be about for it, but life ain't perfect. Gotta talk it over, yeah? Yeah. Thing is, I always seem to be stuck 'tween the Undead and the thing what they're wantin' t'get at, y'understand? Been fightin' them for years now. Lit'rally bloody years. If you lot haven't, we gotta talk Tactic. Now..." Movement from their recently quiet member caught his attention, from almost the other side of the fire. It was the recently taken-in spellcaster, who had looked close to unconsciousness for the majority of his presence with them. Using what Keystone assumed was arcane means, an entire, intact root vegetable rose and hovered slowly to him. What concerned Keystone was that, he was dead certain that he had cut down all of the veggies prior to cooking. Perhaps he missed one. Maybe more. In morning light, he could assess.
Directly following the arcane relocation of the wild baigie, Thomas broke the fireside conversation, seemingly expostulating the idea of talking business in lieu of expanding his knowledge of herbalism, under Satilla's tutelage. Sure enough, it got Keystone's attention away from the ongoing discussion of their predicament and dangers to come. Yes, he was quite interested in this new exchange, just not for the reason likely preferred.
When Thomas dropped the freshly cooked foodstuff onto the ground, the itinerant pugilist wished to voice his disapproval of the younger man's behavior.
"What the 'ell arsebiscuitry is this, ya fongin' cockmerchant? Lobbin' about my bloody neeps, at her bloody cat, and now you're wantin' something from 'er? PISS OFF. We got matters, and Bacon-damned serious ones, need looking to." Keystone was rising from his seat, plate still in hand. His demeanor suggested almost parental incredulity, with restrained, pulsating annoyance that threatened to make a lateral move.
"If'n you get hungry, your supper's feline adjacent at present. Help or bloody leave." Thinking about it optimistically, Keystone might have found a frontrunner for the Ambassador position.
