[hr][hr][center][h2][b][i][color=b8860b]Keystone[/color][/i][/b][/h2][/center]
[b][center][color=b8860b]Location:[/color] Leather Goods Shoppe [/center][/b][b][center][color=b8860b]Interacting With:[/color] Shopkeeper, Cyneburg [/center][/b][hr][hr] 

	The itinerant brawler inspected his coat. It was decent work, no doubt. straight, reinforced stitching, barely noticeable from the outside. Later on, he might go as far as to get some additional hide or stiffened leather applied to the areas of his protective garment that had been penetrated by steel a couple of days back. Too much of that became counterproductive after a fashion; he was being truthful when he said that he required decent freedom of movement to properly utilize the skills he picked up from various Shou masters and texts. He immediately slid himself into his coat and flexed a bit. [color=b8860b]"Good work, this..."[/color] he mumbled. Placing the five copper coins he received as change for his silver ones onto the counter, he remarked, [color=b8860b]"...'preciate the rush job."[/color] and slid them toward the leatherworker. 

	Then Cyneburg happened. He really couldn't blame her, he [i]did[/i] introduce himself to the Monks at the Yellow Rose Temple with title. It didn't stop him from chuckling, though. Well, less of a chuckle than a guffaw. And by guffaw, that really meant that he came close to soiling himself laughing, running out of breath quickly and using the counter as support. Smiley choking tears squeezed from his eyes, and he had to force himself to breath at a normal rate. When he finally could a moment later, he addressed the Druid as best he was able. [color=b8860b]"Oh, just bloody fonging 'ell... I 'aven't laughed that 'ard since I'm a lil girl."[/color] he breathed deeply and centered himself. 

	[color=b8860b]"Fact is, Miss Cyneburg, I'm nobody. I don't belong to no proper Temple like those folk what wear robes and think the deep thoughts 'bout their place in the universe, y'understand. They got their spiritual pursuits an' philosophy an' codes of bloody conduct. I mostly just put the hurtin' on folks what need it."[/color] he smiled broadly again, but refrained from actually laughing. [color=b8860b]"Any title I go by with these folk is, umm..."[/color] Keystone struggled with a word for a second, [color=b8860b]"Honorary. Yeah, that's it. 'onorary. I know a style ain't been used in 'undreds of bloody years, an' they lemme work with 'em 'cause they want to study me as much as I want what they know. These buggers know 'bout me places I ain't been yet. They keep sayin' there's somethin' else 'bout me, but..."[/color] he trailed off, shaking his head.

	[color=b8860b]"I just ain't a Monk, not proper. No Master ever invited me to join 'em official-like. I'm a brawler from noplace special what got into a library I ought not've been and found a bloody book."[/color] Keystone tried to maintain a sense of lasting humor with his words, but something else crept in. A sense of futility, maybe. Frustration at being pulled into a destiny for which he did not ask. [color=b8860b]"Past that my life's been a real peach."[/color] 

	[color=b8860b]"Oi, you about ready to 'ead back?"[/color] Keystone seemed eager to change the subject, following his outburst. Without another word, he headed outside.