[hr][hr][center][h3][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h3][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Road North of Salarn, Midday of Day Three [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] A Situation of Epic Confusion [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	A lot was happening all at once. For some reason unknown, the part of the overlapping thoughts being tossed around that Keystone latched onto was the last bit, offered up by one of his more recent Half-Orc companions. He had expressed desire to use Cremwise's wagon. The suggestion halted the burly Pugilist's train of thought for a moment, causing a slow turn of the head in his direction. Keystone's eyebrow began a noteworthy ascent into the upper reaches of his forehead, or at least just the one of them, as a look of pure, unadulterated incredulity washed over him. His face began to turn a color best described as "reddish-annoyance" and a vein became prominent. 

	With all that was going on in their corner of the forest that day, Keystone had no idea why this frustrated him so. While not trivial, it certainly wasn't the most important issue of the hour. Still, the vexation did not come from the potential of triviality more than the state of the wagon suggested for their use. He risked a glance back to what was left of it. 

	It was, admittedly, in fine condition for a vehicle that had been landed upon by a bear that fell from a clear, blue sky, and without horse, the animal in question having ripped the tack from its moorings, freeing the front end from such restrictive concepts as "walls" or "footrests". The fact that it still had functional wheels was a minor miracle, let alone that somehow the contents of Keystone's pack inside were largely unmolested. 

	[color=b8860b]"Tells ya what there, Ntaj... You do wha'ever pups your bloody tent with that wagon, eh? All yours, squire."[/color]

	Lucky for him, it was the exact mental change of pace he needed to get back into Business Mode. He began to assess the situation with a different, more objective outlook. So this was an undead thing. [i]Again[/i]. That he just happened to wander into. [i]AGAIN[/i]. This was just his lot in life, probably at the behest of entities far more powerful than himself. There's no getting out of it, so the best option for his survival was to address it directly, and hope that these new people would do the same. Sana's shoulder poke and mildly eloquent speech about the bigger picture wasn't entirely off base, and it [i]did[/i]bring his train of thought back to their former employer. What to do, what to do? 

	[color=b8860b]"Thought you'd remember, Miss Sana. Breakin' skulls is what I do. But you're right. Cremmy 'ere's a bloody problem. You s'pose he's just a opportune chiseler, what's makin' profits offa common folk's fear an' blood? Or is he a bigger part of the problem? Either way, I'm all for lunchtime and sodding off. Talk business durin'."[/color]