[center][h3][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h3][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Road North of Salarn, Camp[/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Kyra, Cremwise, Sona, Corpses[/center][/b]

The first thing Keystone went for was the pair of Orcy Spiked Gloves. It would be an interesting addition to his more pugilistic equipment and attire; besides that, he didn't own anything Orc-Craft. The intimidation factor alone would be worth it. Even if he were more effective bareknuckle. Unfortunately, the pragmatic Beater of Wholesale Arse ran into a difficulty that, quite frankly, he really hadn't before: The gloves were too large. He quietly marveled over it in a manner that was decidedly his own. 

[color=b8860b]"Well, ain't that a spoonfulla damnit..."[/color]

No matter. They would just be put in the pile, sold off as soon as they could. He continued looting the corpses, taking whatever he thought may make a silver or two. Weapons, mostly. He motioned for others to help, but did not pause his quick and dirty roll of the dead Orcs.

It wasn't until Kyra began questioning the Orc pinned under his horse that Keystone began to pay serious attention. The bastard spoke the language of Men perfectly! Well, if not perfectly, then well enough to hold an in-depth conversation about the Whys and Wherefores of the situation. The answer to the Ranger's second question [i]definitely[/i] got his rapt attention: 

"We did not! Your kind sent the undead to attack us!"

And there it was. Keystone felt the hair on the back of his next stand up, and a chill pass over his extremities. Of course it was the Undead, and if some bastard [i]sent them[/i], then it was likely the lower end, mindless sort. Meaning there were a LOT more tricks to come. Meaning that every death would provide reinforcements to whoever did this, if they so desired. 
 
Keystone had fought against the Undead before. Several times. It was practically a career for him, to the point that he actually traveled out this way to take a vacation from it all. His thoughts drifted back, over months and years of time. Things he had done to stay alive. Friends he had lost. And the sudden mental break needed to wade into an army of corpses, plying his trade against an untiring assault of once living flesh. Or even more dangerously, the tête-à-tête with the Undead that retained their spark of intelligence and power. He still wasn't sure how he emerged victorious - parts of his memory were blurry as it came to that, but the fact remained that he had clocked more hours fighting back hordes of dead things than most people had in military service, period. If there was a situation starting up here, it needed to be dealt with swiftly or they needed to get far, far away. 

Deep down inside, Keystone knew he wasn't going to choose the latter. But he [i]really[/i] wanted to. 

His memory tarried a little too long with these thoughts. He had questions for the Orc that spoke the Common tongue, questions that would not be answered this hour. He voiced his counsel way too late, as Kyra's arrow was fully pulled back and her fingers were loose on the string as he began, [color=b8860b]"Wai..."[/color] He sighed, figuring that his protest would be as respected and regarded as his advice concerning travel times from last night, anyway. Even if he [i]were[/i] quick enough just then for it to matter. 

It wasn't just the need for answers, either. Killing an incapacitated opponent did not suit his sense of morality, such as it was. Maybe he was being naive about the whole thing. He was an enemy that attacked him directly, he and his buddies approaching en masse, hoping to kill them all and possibly defile the corpses. Or defile them and make them corpses. Either way, there were elements of both corpses [i]and[/i] defiling involved in the hypothetical plan. It was likely the smarter choice to end them. 

Still, if this really was shaping up to be an Undead Horde thing, they would need all the help they could get. Humans and Orcs, both.

[color=b8860b]"Cremmy, we're as good as we're gonna be, just now. Let's get the fonging 'ell out of 'ere."[/color]

Keystone's day got a bit darker. Right at the break of dawn, too. If the freshly dead Orc was to be believed, it was as if the Powers That Be had put him exactly in a position he was trying to avoid, but couldn't walk away from. Yeah, it was time to go. It was also time to keep friends, or at least working acquaintances, close. 

AND TO HELL WITH THAT FLUTE MUSIC. It seemed to occur just prior to someone running off or an imminent attack. 

[color=b8860b]"Sona. Explain."[/color] Maybe she was awake yet. Eh.