[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/Morning of Day Four [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] IC Post # 666 [/center][/b][hr][hr]

	A look of triumphant glee flashed across the rough and scarred face of the group's resident Pugilist as his iron grip fell upon nothing, hand collapsing into a fist with the destruction of the malevolent blood-fog. His massive fist raised in victory, teeth bared in a sneer of superiority, emphasized by a great, growling, monosyllabic shout: [color=b8860b]"HAAA!!!"[/color] 

	...which was immediately cut off by the splatting, messy expiration of the thing proper. Cold, thick blood exploded onto him, impacting upon his face and torso with crimson rivulets and icy clots, as if someone had passed a cow through a sieve and smacked him with it. Judging from the amount of gooey fluid, it was a safe estimation that it was not all his. Keystone froze, unsure as to what exactly happened, unsure what he should do now, and trying to maintain his composure. 

	His fist was still in the air. His face was still twisted into an expression of triumph. The wind buffeted the hem of his reinforced hide coat, seemingly the only movement about him whatsoever. However, were one to look very closely, one might have noticed that a single eye opened amid the runny red mask that was his face, where reflexively they had shut against the unnatural surprise that assailed him. The one eye darted about, this way and that, taking in what it could before refusing to deal with what had just happened. 

	His denial was short lived.

	[color=b8860b]"Ah [i]bloodyfonging'ell[/i] my mouth was open!"[/color] he half yelled, half spat. A series of interesting retching sounds escaped the broad man and he made a dash over to his nearby provisions. Unstopping a the bottle of spirits he had out before turning in for his unsuccessful meditations, he raised it high and let a fair amount of the contents fall onto his face and into his mouth, whereupon Keystone did his best impression of a whale spouting old blood and decent liquor. He shook like a wet dog and began unbuckling his coat. 

	That's when he noticed the spellcaster giving the unconscious Sana his attentions. [color=b8860b]"Oi! What're you on about? Eh?"[/color] Keystone strode over to the fallen Bard and took a knee, curiosity and worry prompting the big man to find out what was going on. He was not a medical man. Quite the opposite, Keystone generally put people in the need for a healer's craft. Nonetheless, he felt compelled to see to [i]this[/i] person, directly or indirectly. It was maddening, really.