[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With: [/color] Undead Melee [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	After full melee was joined, the skeletons spread out and attempted to penetrate their line. To a degree, they were even effective in this task. Enough at least for two of them to have slipped behind the more physical warriors and make a run for their healer, as if they knew who she was and her value to their group. All the same, Keystone had fought hordes of the Undead before. This was a vastly inferior force than was needed to take their location. He had taken out nearly as many skeletons by himself, a few months ago. Of course, geography was on his side; he was able to bottleneck the approaching bony horde and lay down some decidedly unpleasant fisticuffs upon them. 

	The one skeleton that got in his way was now a clunky pile of people-ivory, though it was admittedly not his best work. Keystone risked a glance back to assess the condition of the rest of his team before continuing forward to the bucking, once steak-covered adversary that presently beleaguered Sana. What he saw made him question the sanity of his compatriots. 

	Calanon seemed clear. The naked Half-Orc had a skeleton attached to the end of his broad, shaggy blade. Looked like fun. Satilla was scared, two skeletons making for her, one gaining the attention of a rather angry looking crocodile, the other the incantations of their recently acquired spellcaster, [i]who had decided to completely ignore the aggressive dead guy two feet from him[/i]. 

	The pause as Keystone took in this last spectacle was apparently enough for one of his framework assailants to break away from the Orcs to the side and stab a short sword into him. He was able to block the blade away, for the most part. It skipped off f his bracer and the harder parts of his coat, but still managed to snag and penetrate his upper arm. The problem was, the scarred brawler had someplace he needed to be - out front, beating a skellybull into ossified shards on the cold, uncaring ground. But first things first - get to Sana. 

	[color=b8860b]"PROTECT SATILLA!"[/color] he bellowed, confident that the combined combat prowess of the others present could handle three skeletons without loss of life. As long as they had someone gifted with the ability to close their wounds and pull their heads out of their ribcages when necessary, their more minor hurts could be suffered in the interim. Keystone had somewhere to be. Whispering a single word in a long unused dialect, the bracers on his forearms thrummed to activity, and the broad man sped into action. 

	His first motion was to launch an ordinarily heart bludgeoning palm-heel strike into the sternum of the skelly that had just put a blade into him. Destroyed it or no (it was likely), the force of the strike from a man like that may very well shove the creature back from where it came, to the Orcs it was originally attacking. The rest of his attention for the next moment would be centered straight ahead, full attack. There's a bovine that needed to die. 

	...again.