[center][h3][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h3][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Road North of Salarn, One hour north of Camp[/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Cremwise, Calanon, Lerraina, Everyone In The Wagon [/center][/b]

	Keystone strained to raise the corner of the wagon. It wanted to move, it really did. But even with assistance, it just wasn't enough. Whatever they were hauling must be heavy indeed. If he could just divest the conveyance of a couple hundred pounds, surely that would be sufficient to allow the large man (and not quite as large Elf) enough purchase to separate the wheel from the road's muddy Bastille, bent upon holding it fast within. 

	And let us not forget the Orcs. Oh yes, the hordes of angry, greenskinned, pissed-off Orcs that lived right around this area, utterly annoyed at the presence of Humans and other, less Orcy races. From his last encounter with them, the tiniest scrap of possibility arose that the Orcs didn't really start this conflict. Keystone imagined that were he an Orc, he'd be rightly upset at the non-Orc him if he found himself creeping about in his forest so soon after an attack. 

	Truly, he had a dizzying intellect. Of sorts. 

	Either way, Orcs or Undead, Keystone had no desire to be out in the middle of hostile territory during a downpour as the overall season was transitioning out of autumn. His approach to informing the others was terse and quite direct. He poked his head inside the covered portion of the wagon with their living cargo, exclaiming with faux cheer, [color=b8860b]"Wakey wakey, li'l ladies! It's buggerin' off time![/color] before immediately continuing in his normal, low voice, [color=b8860b]"Nah seriously, shake it out, then. Wagon's stuck in a rut, need to lift it out. I got a tarp in there you lot can stand under, if'n y'need it."[/color]

	The upstart Pugilist put his back to the wagon again, bracing to make another attempt. He set his jaw firm and cut an angry, determined glare. He would lift this wagon out of the mud, or projectile-shit a kidney in the attempt. 

	Before he rectally expelled an internal organ, however, Keystone heard a small but clear voice mention something about [color=B22222]needing a hand[/color] from the edge of the treeline. Another mystery guest, crawling out of the forest. This seemed to be happening a lot lately. The large man's level of acceptance of these events was slowly turning toward the positive. It wasn't quite there yet, but he had reached grudging tolerance. Maybe there was some higher metaphysical purpose to them being thrown together. Best to wait and see. At least until the next town. All the same, he had to take the opportunity to Snark. 

	[color=b8860b]"Do I need an 'and? Look lady, it's been a day. I swear by all things Good and Bacony, if you start applaudin', I'll bloody thump ya."[/color] He sighed, resigning himself to the inevitable of his situation. [color=b8860b]"C'mon then, best get with it. Name of Keystone. We're headed [i]that way[/i]. We'll get to the whys and hows after we're movin'."[/color]