[center][h3][b][i][color=b8860b]Johnathon Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h3][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern, Private Rooms (2F)[/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Femnal, Barmaid[/center][/b]

Keystone had been on the road for quite a while. Walking, no less, not counting that time he hopped on the back of a feed-bearing farmer's wagon in exchange for moving a cow out of the road. The resulting overestimation of bovine durability ensured that both he and the farmer ate well for the next few days. Regrettably, he had to shell out coin to the herd animal's owner, but he was rather quick to settle monetary negotiations with a man who had barehanded a cow to unnatural demise. 

Victory over beef aside, he wanted privacy and a bath. Definitely the bath. 

The massive brawler slid a single gold coin across the table at the diminutive Innkeeper and accepted the key with a nod. [color=b8860b]"Let me know when that's out. I 'preciate."[/color]

He flagged down the serving lady that tended to his needs earlier with an eyelock and raised finger. [color=b8860b]"I'll be taking by happys upstairs then, Miss. Changed my mind about the suds, but if'n you could send up somethin' to sip in a bit, I'd be grateful. Something local, with a floral bouquet, what can peel the stink offa goat."[/color] His colorful underclass accent was certainly in sharp form that night, if nothing else. 

Keystone shouldered his pack and tucked his knife away. With something akin to grace, he consolidated what remained of his supper onto a single plate and carried everything upstairs to his new lodgings. 

It wasn't a grand vacation suite located in the heart of a great trade city, but it would suffice for his needs. With some caution, Keystone shut his door behind him and peered through the window's shutters. It gave him some bearing as to where his room was located overall in the building, but alas did not afford much of an outside view aside from what he saw coming into the Crossed Swords. Again, it would suffice. 

The burly fighter noticed with some surprise that there was, in the adjacent room, a brass tub already mostly filled with steaming water, towels laid out, as if he was expected. He'd have to ask someone how this was managed later, but for now, Keystone seemed to recall a parable about a Gift Horse and where one shouldn't immediately look thereon. 

Keystone wasted no further time in stashing his pack near the tub and stepping out of his grand leather coat, boots, and clothing. In quick moments, the traveling breaker of mens' skulls was settling into almost-too-hot water and scrubbing the rigors of analog translocation from himself. 

From deep within his abdomen, a curious rumbling noise sounded, as if someone were playing a muted frame of fleshy bowling and had just picked up a lingering spare. 

[color=b8860b]"Provide m'own bubbles, eh?"[/color] Keystone mentioned aloud to no one at all, [color=b8860b]"I don't think I'll be havin' a choice in the matter..."[/color]