The chilling feeling that just crawled underneath his skin was either surprise or dread. Or both. Nevertheless, Keystone kept his exterior calm, or at least made a good showing of it. He slid off his pack and let it fall behind him. It connected with the earth with a sense of finality. 

“There’s a lot about this I don’t know, Glith. There’s a right and fair statement.” His hat followed suit, on top of the pack. He began to unbutton his robe. His apprehension was quickly replaced with a sense of grim determination. 

“It’s also a fair statement that you’ve been busy this week, snuffing out a lot of good men and women. Including a Knight, last of his line. Half-Orc, fought with a scythe. His name was Raa Tel'Nimras.” His robe and kunai were cast aside, also atop his pack behind him. 

Rage flickered in his soul. Not enough to overwhelm his judgement, but a controlled burn that sharpened his senses and clarified his intent. He allowed himself to feel it, the warm caress of anger, but set it to the side. It was still there, granted, but it held no control over his actions. Keystone exhaled, purging his mind of thoughts immaterial to the present, and tightened his hands around his signature brass knuckles. His foot slid back, weight shifting as he took a lower stance just as Shein-Fang had demonstrated would properly suit his fighting style.

He nodded to Glith. Maybe the bastard would come back again after this. Maybe not. Didn’t matter, this had to be addressed now. The challenge could not go unanswered forever, and the Red Wizards of all people shouldn’t be fighting his battles for him. Keystone started this journey as a brawler and bouncer turned mercenary. Today, if it was to be his last, he wanted to leave as a Monk. Occidental, eclectically trained, but still quite lethal. 

“And you’re damned right I want to do this again. [i]The right way[/i]."

Keystone breathed he command word for his bracers, and brought the fight to Glith. Hard.